The Engagement
[Completed* - Regency/PG]

Chapter 1

It was a truth almost universally acknowledged throughout Hertfordshire that of all the Bennet sisters, Elizabeth was the most intelligent. Jane was the noted beauty, Lydia the confirmed flirt, Kitty was pretty but somewhat puny, having a predisposition to coughs, and Mary was the quiet, sober one. Elizabeth's quick wit and bold remarks were much admired and she was often referred to in the community as "the clever one." If truth be told, she took a certain pride in her ability to utter an adroit turn of phrase and in her astute and quick judgment of character. Not one to suffer fools gladly, she was rarely taken in by visiting dandies or ladies of society who were much enamored of themselves.

In matters of the heart, though, Elizabeth Bennet was quite inexperienced, and, although she, along with her sisters, were known to be the prettiest in the locality, so far all five were still single and Elizabeth had yet to meet any man to whom she would consider giving her heart. The fact that her father's estate was entailed away upon a distant cousin and there would be little funds to provide dowries for her or her sisters did cause the subject of marriage to be much talked of and considered by her family, in particular by her mother whose laments of the lack of even one son-in-law were loud and long. Since Jane was the oldest, the sweetest, and by far, the prettiest of the girls, Lizzy felt certain that her sister would be the one to marry well and thus secure the future for the rest of the Bennet women. As for herself, she had no desire to marry for money, although she did admit it was the sensible thing to do, and declared to Jane that only the very deepest kind of love would induce her into matrimony. This caused her to vow that she would probably never marry, but deep within her heart, she, like most young women, yearned for that special gentleman to ride into town and sweep her off her feet. Being a rational woman, though, she did not hold her breath waiting for such an event.

The arrival of a Mr. Bingley and his sisters into Hertfordshire and his subsequent possession of the prestigious Netherfield Hall had caused a stir among all the local unmarried young women, as well as their mothers, and the Bennets could certainly be included among that number. His decided attentions to Jane had not failed to be noted and approved of by Meryton's society, as well as her family, but the inclusion of his friend, a Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, at assemblies and suppers had not set well with any of the Hertfordshire ladies. It was not that Mr. Darcy was distasteful in appearance - on the contrary, he was clearly the handsomest man who had ever set foot in the county - nor was he a younger son in search of a richly dowered bride, for it was rumored that his fortune was great, some 10,000 pounds per year! It was Mr. Darcy's manners that failed to please the ladies of the neighborhood; he appeared to disapprove of all he met and his arrogance and pride amidst country folk did not win many friends for him among Elizabeth Bennet's acquaintances.

As for Lizzy, herself, she could not abide him. Within the first five minutes of meeting him at a local assembly, she knew without a doubt that no matter how great his wealth, he would be the last man she would ever wish to marry!

Now, as to another young man who had recently arrived in Meryton, Lizzy found her feelings quite different. The local militia had encamped nearby and would spend the winter in Hertfordshire, and the fact that most of the young officers were single proved to delight certain of the local ladies, not least of which were Lizzy's younger sisters. When George Wickham joined the camp shortly thereafter, his handsome good looks attracted everyone's attention and his pleasing manners attracted Lizzy as no other man's had ever done. Mr. Wickham, in turn, obviously appreciated Lizzy's charms and intelligence, so much so that the two quickly became friends, such good friends that Wickham even confessed to Lizzy his humble beginnings (being only the son of a steward for a rich estate in Derbyshire) and his misfortune of losing a promised living from the deceased owner of the estate and his patron, because of jealousy on the part of the heir and son. To learn that the heir in question was none other than Mr. Darcy stunned Lizzy and all others who heard Wickham repeat the story. Lizzy's previous opinion of Darcy had been poor, but this news was downright shocking!

Tonight, however, Elizabeth had put aside all unpleasant thoughts in anticipation of thoroughly enjoying herself at the long-awaited ball at Netherfield, an event she, as well as her mother, envisioned as being given by Mr. Bingley because of his admiration of her sister, Jane. Toiling long at her mirror, she had urged the maid to tame her curls into a pleasing array, working tiny champagne-colored flowers and ribbons through her coiffure. Even her sister, Lydia, had commented on how well she looked and warned her not to monopolize the attentions of Mr. Wickham, as she wished to dance with him, also. The idea of dancing with Wickham had caused Lizzy's complexion to glow and her eyes to sparkle when she thought of how dancing would afford them the opportunity to touch hands.

Alas, though, upon first arriving she was sorely disappointed to learn that Wickham had been obliged to go to town rather than attend the ball. When his friend, Captain Denny, intimated that the real reason had more to do with his objection to socializing with Mr. Darcy, however, Lizzy's disappointment turned to anger. She had hoped that Wickham would attend even though she knew of the horrid treatment he had endured at the hands of Darcy in the past. She now realized that such social proximity between the two would be impossible and she wished she had stayed at home, herself.

It was not only the absence of Wickham that had ruined her evening, though. She had promised herself that she would never dance with Darcy since he had slighted her on the first night they had met, when he had flatly refused to dance with her. Yet, when he approached her at the ball and asked for her hand, she was caught so off guard that she could think of no excuse with which to refuse him and had thus endured his presence in what some would call excellent dancing, but what she preferred to think of as torment set to music. He had been snobbish, conceited, and arrogant throughout the entire ordeal, and she decided he had invited her to dance only to afford him more of an opportunity to insult her.

But that was not the only way she had been offended by him that evening. At the very beginning she had suffered through his snide smiles at her obvious discomfiture while dancing with her bumbling cousin, Mr. Collins, who had proved most awkward and inept at this social grace, and, indeed, at all further social graces throughout the evening. Then when her sisters, Mary and Lydia, had embarrassed her with the former's forward and off-key singing and the latter's excessive and noisy flirtations, Lizzy watched as Darcy swelled in righteous indignation and whispered his ridicule to Bingley's sisters. Of course, her mother's loud, vulgar announcement of her sister, Jane's, almost certain engagement to Bingley had only added to Lizzy's humiliation. The man had not even proposed yet and Mrs. Bennet's public assumptions were completely improper. Thank goodness, the dancing had ended and the meal was almost over. Surely they could soon leave this place with all haste.

Much to her dismay, however, Lizzy heard the musicians tuning their instruments once more, and the assembly soon moved into the ballroom and selected partners for even yet more dancing. Lizzy's countenance fell even further when she saw that Bingley did not seek Jane's company for this dance, but instead selected Charlotte Lucas. She knew that Jane had been as humiliated as Lizzy by her family's behavior and her heart ached for her sister's slight. This evening was turning out to be a disaster for both of them.

She started across the ballroom to join Jane, but before she could reach her, she groaned aloud as she spied Mr. Collins approaching with his eye firmly planted upon her person; quickly she ducked behind a nearby potted palm and edged herself toward the door that led into the great hall. She absolutely would not dance with him again! As she backed away, keeping her head down and not looking behind her, she was quite startled when she bumped into a man - in fact, into his very arms.

"Miss Bennet?" Darcy inquired, as his strong arms went around her and then his hands clasped her waist to prevent her from falling.

Not him! she thought, her heart sinking and her colour rising. How could I back into him of all people!

"Pardon me," she said quickly, attempting to disentangle herself and right her balance. In doing so, she stepped on his foot and her complexion immediately turned even pinker. Well, now you can add lack of grace to my list of wrongs, she thought.

"It was my fault," he replied while still holding on to her waist, "I was standing in your way."

She looked down at where his hands were placed and she became conscious of their size and warmth and that warm sensation began to spread throughout her body. Why does he not let me go, she wondered.

Darcy suddenly seemed to realize the position of his hands and immediately releasing her, he took a step backward as she tried to brush by him. Instead of allowing her to leave his presence, however, he detained her by asking, "If you are not otherwise engaged, will you do me the honor of dancing the next with me, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy could not believe her ears, but this time she was determined to refuse him. Once again, however, she was at a loss as to an excuse. "I am not inclined to dance, sir. Please do not think I came this way to beg for a partner," she stammered.

"Indeed? May I be so bold as to inquire the reason why you do not wish to dance? I do hope you are not unwell."

Lizzy said nothing, but she refused to be the first to look away as their eyes held each other's in a fierce stare. This man is impossible! Can he not see that I dislike him? What can I say to get away from him? How delighted and amazed she was to see coming down the hall at that very moment the very person who could save her - Mr. Wickham!

"I am perfectly well, sir, and I thank you for your invitation, but I am otherwise engaged," she announced. With only a slight nod, she hurried past him to greet Wickham. Darcy's eyes followed her and upon observation of whom she went to meet, his countenance turned darker than usual and his eyes became the colour of steel. With no little haste, he turned and stalked across the length of the room as though he would put as great a distance as possible between himself and Wickham.

"Miss Bennet," Wickham smiled, as he took her hand and kissed it.

"I am so glad to see you, Mr. Wickham," she said, slightly out of breath. "I am somewhat surprised, as Captain Denny informed me you had gone to town."

"Yes, well, fortunately, my plans changed." Wickham looked away and then returned his gaze to Elizabeth, looking directly into her eyes. "No, with you, Miss Bennet, I must be completely honest. I had thought to avoid the ball because of Mr. Darcy's presence. I was afraid situations might arise that would prove unpleasant for us both, but after further consideration of the matter, I decided I would brave such unpleasantness if it meant that I would have the opportunity to enjoy this gala occasion with all my new friends . . . and especially with you."

She blushed at his obvious compliment. "I am pleased that you changed your mind, because your presence has just relieved me from a most disagreeable task."

Wickham looked toward Darcy's retreating back. "Oh? Has Mr. Darcy been rude, Miss Bennet?"

"No, not at the moment. Earlier this evening I danced with him and it was, shall we say, displeasing to the both of us. For some reason he has just asked me to dance once more and I have no desire to repeat the experience."

"And do you dislike dancing so much, or just the proposed partner?"

Lizzy looked slightly embarrassed. "I confess it was the partner, for I love dancing."

"Then let us move to the ballroom, if you have no objection to dancing with me."

"I have no objection, sir," she smiled broadly, "but I did just tell Mr. Darcy that I was not inclined to dance."

"And are you so solicitous of his feelings that it would prevent your being my partner?"

As her eyes followed Darcy disappearing across the room, Lizzy thought, he will know that I was lying if I dance with Wickham, but what a temptation he presents. She stood there for a moment, looking up at Wickham, past his red coat which his broad shoulders filled so well, and into his pleasing brown eyes, but finally she said, "I am no more solicitous of Mr. Darcy's feelings than any other's, but the rules of polite society dictate that I must not dance with you when I have just refused another."

"Ah, so they do," Wickham murmured. "Shall we proceed to the table then and have a glass of punch?" "I would like that very much," Lizzy smiled up at him, as she took his arm and walked across the room. They continued their conversation with much animation, and Lizzy's eyes sparkled as he agreed with her witty comments about the society in which they stood; whenever Lizzy glanced away, however, she felt Darcy's piercing, brooding glare upon her. If his appearance had contained the slightest note of sadness or disappointment, she might have experienced a small measure of guilt for not dancing with him, but as she saw nothing but sullen disapproval in his eyes, this caused her to flash Wickham her most brilliant of smiles and toss her curls with every turn of her pretty head.

It was not long before Wickham and Lizzy were soon joined at the punch bowl by Lydia and Kitty and the contingency of soldiers who followed in their wake. Wickham was claimed by Lydia for the next dance and Lizzy rolled her eyes at her youngest sister's audacity, but Captain Denny kept her company and they, too, enjoyed much laughter and talk. The evening concluded not long after that and Lizzy now found herself surprisingly disappointed at its closure, when earlier she had longed for such an event. Wickham secured her cloak and, as he placed it around her, she felt his hands linger on her shoulders.

"I have quite enjoyed myself this evening, Miss Bennet, especially when I had the pleasure of visiting with you," he murmured in her ear. "My only regret is that our time together was far too short."

Lizzy smiled and blushed slightly as she agreed with his sentiments. When he asked if he might call on the morrow, she readily gave her consent. Thus, she was quite happy by the time she joined Jane in the carriage and the evening's earlier displeasures and embarrassments were altogether forgotten. She longed to share her feelings with her sister, but Mr. Collins, along with her mother, soon entered the vehicle and the remainder of the ride home was spent listening to their effusions of joy. Not even the displeasure of riding in the presence of Mr. Collins, though, could diminish Lizzy's feeling of well being when she remembered Mr. Wickham's brown eyes and recalled the pleasant sensation she felt each time he smiled at her.

~ * ~

Lizzy saw much of Wickham in the days following the ball. He and several of the other officers called regularly at Longbourn and her mother invited the young men to dine often, as she, herself, was quite taken with how handsome they appeared in their red coats, besides wishing to promote any possible attachment between them and one or more of her daughters.

Mrs. Bennet was exceedingly put out with Lizzy, though, when she refused Mr. Collins' offer of marriage. How the girl could put her own preferences before the opportunity to secure the very heir to Longbourn offended her mother's deepest sensibilities! And then with the arrival of Caroline Bingley's note to Jane informing her that the whole party had removed themselves from Netherfield and transported to London with no intention of returning, Mrs. Bennet was quite beside herself. All of her hopes for Jane and Mr. Bingley seemed fallen into a dismal puddle. When news reached the household that Mr. Collins had now asked and received the promise of Charlotte Lucas' hand in marriage, Mrs. Bennet had to spend the day in bed as she was completely undone by a case of vapors. She was soon up, though, determined to make her home hospitable and her girls welcoming to the young soldiers. They might not be rich, but a husband was a husband.

One afternoon all five of the Bennet sisters walked into Meryton, the stated objective being a visit to their Aunt Philips, but another purpose resided within the minds of at least two of the girls. Lydia and Kitty hoped to meet by accident with certain of the militia officers and Lizzy, herself, was certainly not adverse to seeing Wickham. Although Jane and Mary urged their sisters not to dawdle before the windows of the local shops, Lydia, in particular, took her time and pretended to be quite enthralled with a certain bonnet, all the while keeping an eager eye on those passing by. At last her efforts were rewarded as she spied Denny, Captain Carter, and Wickham walk around the corner.

"Denny!" she squealed, waving and jumping so that he would see her, whereupon Jane and Lizzy both attempted to curb her behavior, but not before her calls had the anticipated effect, and the young officers crossed the street to join the ladies.

"We are on our way to our Aunt Philips for tea," Lydia cried. "Will you not come with us?"

"I do not believe we have been invited," Denny replied.

"No one stands on protocol. Our aunt will be glad to have you, as she positively thrives upon gossip and seeing all of you with us will give her enough to talk about for a week." With a cheeky grin, she took Denny's arm and Carter offered his to Kitty. Jane and Mary led the way and Lizzy and Wickham fell into step quite naturally.

"I was hoping to see you today," Wickham said quietly. "You are looking exceptionally well, Miss Bennet."

Lizzy smiled her thanks and said, "And have your duties kept you busy? We missed your company yesterday and that of your friends."

"Did you? I am relieved to hear that. We have visited Longbourn almost daily for some time now and I feared that you might be growing weary of our calls."

"I think you can see that my sisters have not . . . nor have I," Lizzy smiled again. "Your visits have provided much diversion to our solitary days."

"Solitary? You may describe your life as solitary, but you give a much different impression. Each time we come, all of you are involved in such varied activities - painting screens, reading, needlework, or gardening. I would think you have much with which to occupy your time."

"We do," Lizzy agreed, "but it is nothing in comparison to being entertained by the tales which you and your comrades bring into our house. Our life is so quiet where yours is exciting. You have seen so much more of the world than I, Mr. Wickham. I find myself quite envious at times."

A serious cast covered Wickham's face. "Yes, I have traveled much, but I must say it has not always been my desire. In truth, I long to put down roots somewhere, to belong to some place, some house . . . some person." He looked directly into her eyes as he spoke these last words and Lizzy felt herself visibly swallow at the intensity of both his words and his look.

"Such I might have had," he went on, "if I had been given the comfortable living I had been promised. Instead of serving in the militia, I would be a settled country curate by now."

"And how would you have liked making sermons?" Lizzy asked.

"I would have liked it very much, very much, indeed." They walked on in silence for a few moments and then Wickham spoke again. "The militia has one thing in its favor, though, which being settled in Kympton would not."

"And what is that?"

"It gave me an opportunity to meet certain very agreeable persons."

Lizzy felt her heart skip a beat at the look in his eyes and the tenor of his voice, and she could not answer, but only look away. Is he falling in love with me she wondered.

By that time they had reached the Philips house and the rest of the afternoon was spent with enjoyment of refreshments and in lively conversation between all the young people, which did provide much fodder for Mrs. Philips' gossip mill.

~ * ~

November turned into December and Christmas was fast approaching. Mrs. Bennet's brother and his family, the Gardiners, arrived from London two weeks before the holiday, and Longbourn was bustling not only with preparations for the festive season, but with relatives and children, as the Gardiners were blessed with four active youngsters. They were lovely people and the families were quite close, but one day Mrs. Bennet's nerves had grown quite frayed with the extra noise and activity provided by the little ones so Jane persuaded Lydia and Kitty to take them outside to play in the snow.

The ensuing quiet gave the ladies time to discuss the upcoming Mistletoe Ball to be held at the Assembly Hall on the following Saturday night. What they would wear and who would be attending were the prominent topics of discussion, but with the remembrance that Mr. Bingley remained in London, Mrs. Bennet's countenance dropped into a pout as she contemplated aloud poor Jane's disappointment. When Jane could no longer bear her mother's pity, she rose and moved to the window where Lizzy soon joined her.

"I am sorry, Jane," Lizzy said softly. "Our mother sometimes has the tact of a turkey."

"It is all right, Lizzy. I am not distressed. After all, there was no formal agreement between Mr. Bingley and myself. Mamma simply jumped to conclusions before they existed."

Lizzy looked away and bit her lip. Her mother was not the only one who had thought there was a preference on Bingley's part, for he had shown all the signs of caring for Jane. His sudden departure to London without calling on her had been an abrupt action and Lizzy could not help but think that his friend, Darcy, had pushed his influence upon the man. She had no way of knowing whether her thoughts were correct, but the more time she spent with Wickham, the more she disliked Darcy. She even found herself at times brooding on how such a fine young man had suffered such unconscionable treatment at the hand of Darcy, how he had been deprived of his inheritance from Darcy's father, and had thus caused his chances of a suitable living to be ruined. Oh, how she would like to blacken that man's name! How very easy it was for the rich to take what they wished and give offense as they pleased!

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet called for the second time. "Are you deaf?"

Lizzy started and turned from the window to her mother. "I am sorry, Mamma, I was lost in thought."

"You must be, for your aunt has called you once and I have done so twice!"

"What is it, Aunt?"

"Would you mind calling the children, Lizzy? I am sure their clothes are damp from the snow by now and I must get them changed for dinner."

"Of course," Lizzy smiled and left the room immediately. She stepped outside the door and was surprised at how cold it was and how slick the walkway had become from its thick coating of ice. When she did not see the children anywhere nearby, she ran inside and put on her long coat and scarf, and then walked around the side of the house in search of her cousins.

Wham! A deluge of snowballs pelted her in the face and squeals of laughter greeted her as she wiped the cold, wet frost from her eyes. She could see the children running toward the back of the great lawn where Lydia and Kitty ducked behind the stone fence.

"So that's your game, you little demons!" Lizzy cried, as she began forming balls of snow on her own and throwing them at their retreating backs. She ran after them, dodging bullets of snow from Lydia and Kitty until she reached the fence and then the children pulled her down and covered her in heaps of wet, mushy ice.

"Ha, ha! We surprised you, Lizzy, didn't we?" Lydia cried, acting as much a child as her younger cousins.

When Lizzy could finally sit up, she grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at Lydia. "Now, who's surprised?" she laughed.

"Lizzy!" Lydia screamed. "I am wet through! And my hair is absolutely ruined. I'm going inside."

"Me, too," Kitty said, as she began to cough.

"We should go in now, children," Lizzy stated not long after her sisters had gone in the house, but when they began to whine and plead for more time to play, she relented. "All right. One last snowball fight and then no more delays. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" they all said at once.

"Now, who's going to be on my side?"

"No one, Lizzy," the oldest of the Gardiner children cried. "It's us against you!"

"Oh no!" Lizzy cried in mock horror as she ran toward the house, being pelted by snow and throwing it back as fast as she could. As she neared the corner of the building and stepped on the icy walk, she turned one last time to take aim and was met by a cascade of snowballs so fast and hard that they caused her to lose her balance and she felt herself falling when she was caught by two very strong arms and held tight against a hard, muscled body. It was a hardy person who caught her, but not strong enough to prevent the two of them from falling into the snow. In a kaleidoscope of legs and arms, she scrambled to right herself. As she raised her head, her heart sank when she saw that she had fallen on top of no less a person than Mr. Darcy!

Her face was not two inches from his; as she lay on top of him, she could feel his heart beating beneath her breast, and his breath on her cheek as he spoke. "Miss Bennet, are you unharmed?"

"Yes . . . sir, I am well," she managed to utter.

"Then would you mind getting off of me?"

"Of course!" Lizzy cried attempting to gain her balance enough to roll off of him. Where had he come from? And how could she have knocked him down? Now what must he think of her?

Just as she thought she had gained enough momentum to move, two young, wet bodies jumped on her back, pushing her back down on top of Darcy, this time burying her face in his neck. Goodness, but he smells delightful, she thought. She could not help but inhale the scent of his skin and, in spite of her dislike of him, found herself highly pleased with its essence. The youngest of the Gardiner children squealed at top decibel as they pushed more snow onto Lizzy's head, a large part of which consequently fell onto Darcy's face. She cried for them to cease, but that only added to their delight and she was helpless to remove them or herself from the situation until Darcy, with one gigantic effort took Lizzy by the waist and turned on his side, thereby dumping her and her young cousins onto the snow beside him.

The children squealed in high merriment and Lizzy found herself laughing in spite of everything. A more ridiculous situation I could not dream of in a hundred years, she thought. One look at Darcy's countenance, however, caused her laughter to cease. There was no amusement in his look; indeed, he appeared quite put out. Was the man so puffed up with his own importance that he could see no humor in what had just happened?

He sat up, brushing the snow from his coat, and then he quickly stood and took Lizzy's hands and pulled her to a standing position. "Are you quite sure you are not hurt?" he asked again.

"Perfectly so," she stammered. "I am so sorry to have run into you. I should have watched where I was going. I had no idea you were even there."

Darcy said nothing in reply, but only stared at her as he now brushed the snow from his hat.

"Lizzy, you are covered with snow!" Jane cried, brushing at her hair. Lizzy had failed to notice that her sister had accompanied Darcy until she heard her voice, for she was now quite embarrassed at having behaved in such an unladylike manner. She then realized that Jane had shushed the children and was dusting the snow from them, also.

"Yes, Miss Elizabeth, I do believe you look like a snowman, yourself," Bingley added, "or perhaps I should say snow woman."

"Mr. Bingley!" Lizzy exclaimed. "I did not see you there! When did you return to Netherfield?"

"Just this morning," Bingley replied, smiling. "I had business with my steward and Darcy agreed to accompany me on a quick trip to Hertfordshire."

"Then your sisters have remained in London?" Lizzy asked, still brushing at her coat and wondering how wild her hair appeared.

"Yes, they did not want to miss the season's festivities in town and we have promised to make this a short stay."

"That is too bad," Lizzy smiled, "for you will miss our Christmas fun."

Darcy continued to dust the snow from his hat. "Even more fun than this, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy turned to him and was about to answer sharply when Bingley said, "Your mother has just told us of the Mistletoe Ball. It is to be this Saturday evening? Is that correct?"

"Yes," Jane murmured, "at the Assembly Hall." She had gathered all four of the children by that time and directed them into the house while the young adults followed.

"Perhaps we might delay our leave-taking until after the weekend," Bingley said. "What do you say, Darcy?"

"Do you think that is wise, Bingley?" the man in question responded.

"A day or two cannot make that much difference and I would enjoy a country dance. Would you not, Darcy?"

A somewhat pained look crossed Darcy's face and Lizzy could not help but roll her eyes. "I do believe it is a well known fact that country dances are not to Mr. Darcy's liking," she said.

Darcy looked at her, passing his eyes up and down her entire form, before speaking. "Perhaps if certain people might be more willing to dance with me, my preference for country dances might improve," he said. Lizzy simply glared at him as they walked into the house. Insufferable man, she thought. First, he slights me at a dance and then infers that it is my fault he does not enjoy such events! Dear God, may I never have to dance with him again!

Inside, Lizzy excused herself and ran upstairs to change her gown and redo her hair. She hoped desperately that Darcy would somehow leave before she returned, but that Bingley would stay for Jane's sake. She knew, of course, that they had arrived together and would leave in the same manner, but oh, how she disliked the thought of spending an evening in the same room with that hateful man. For Jane, though, she would endure as best she could.

Mrs. Bennet invited both gentlemen to stay for supper and they accepted. Fortunately, with the Gardiners present also, there were enough people to prevent Lizzy from spending much time in Darcy's immediate presence. In fact, they rarely spoke for the remainder of the evening, but she could not help but notice his continual gaze upon her. No matter where she moved in the room or to whom she spoke, she felt his disapproving eyes upon her. Why does he look at me so if he finds me disagreeable, she wondered. And his eyes not only followed her, they seemed to bore right through her, causing her to feel quite uncomfortable. At last the gentlemen departed and Lizzy could not have been more relieved.

She was thrilled, though, to see the light returned to Jane's beautiful eyes. All of her natural sparkle and brightness coloured her countenance and she once again appeared as she had before Bingley had left the neighborhood. As her sister smiled at the fact that he was going to attend the Mistletoe Ball on Saturday, Lizzy hugged her tightly.

"I am so happy for you," she whispered while kissing her good-night, but then she sighed as she thought of yet another ball ruined for herself by Mr. Darcy!

Chapter 2

The next day Wickham, Denny, and Captain Carter called at Longbourn and passed the afternoon visiting with the Bennets. Lydia and Kitty were full of news about the Mistletoe Ball and insisted on the officers' agreement to attend, which they were only too happy to give.

"May I ask why the occasion is called the Mistletoe Ball?" Denny asked with a laugh. "Does that mean mistletoe will be hung about the room?"

"No, no!" Lydia exclaimed. "It is hung from a long pole which resides in the exclusive possession of Sir William Lucas, who delights in placing it over certain girls' heads when they are least likely to observe his actions."

"Especially when we are dancing!" Kitty added.

"And does that entitle their partner to steal a kiss?" Captain Carter asked with a laugh.

"Well, of course," Lydia cried. "What other use is there for mistletoe?" This statement resulted in much laughter among the young men and the familiar statement by Mr. Bennet that "Here you see two of the silliest young women in England," once again.

Wickham turned to Lizzy and spoke in a low voice. "It would seem that Sir William enjoys playing the matchmaker."

"Yes," Lizzy smiled, "I do believe he has a propensity in that direction."

"Then may I take this opportunity to secure your hand for the first two dances?"

Lizzy blushed now, but her eyes were bright with happiness. "You may, sir, thank you."

The company soon divided into foursomes for card games, but Lizzy and Wickham remained apart, preferring to talk quietly between themselves. His attention was called away from her only when Mrs. Bennet began to speak of the great distinction Mr. Bingley was paying Jane by delaying his return to London just to attend the ball on Saturday. Wickham was quite surprised to hear that Bingley had returned to Netherfield and even more so when he learned that Darcy had accompanied him.

"Does this mean that Darcy will attend the dance, also?" he asked Elizabeth.

"I am afraid so," she murmured, looking away. "It vexes me sorely, but it seems that wherever Mr. Bingley goes, Mr. Darcy follows."

"Indeed," Wickham muttered.

Lizzy looked up quickly. "I do hope his presence will not prevent your attendance, Mr. Wickham."

He frowned, but answered in the negative. "No, it will not. It is not for me to forego the pleasure of dancing with you simply because Darcy will be standing around glowering."

Lizzy laughed, "Of that we can be sure! I do not believe the man knows how to do anything else in Hertfordshire society."

Later that evening after the officers had departed, Lizzy asked her Aunt Gardiner for her impression of Wickham. She was pleased when her aunt offered her approval of him as quite handsome and amiable, and, of course, coming from Derbyshire only added to his appeal as she and Wickham shared in their good opinion of that part of England.

"I give you leave to like him, Lizzy, as he has all the appearance of goodness and kindness," she smiled.

"Thank you, Aunt, I believe I do like him. I like him very much."

As Lizzy and Jane climbed the stairs to retire for the evening, though, Jane once again cautioned Lizzy about Wickham. She reminded her of Bingley's admonition that Wickham was not a man to be trusted because of the infamous way he had treated Darcy, but Lizzy would have none of it. She retorted that Bingley's information came from his friend who was as prejudiced against the man as anyone could be. She refused to believe there could be anything displeasing in him.

"It is as plain as the nose on your face, Jane. Mr. Wickham is a good man and Mr. Darcy is not!"

~ * ~

At Netherfield that same night after Bingley had retired to his chambers, Darcy spent no little time with a bottle of brandy. The two friends had actually almost quarreled after their return to Bingley's mansion. Darcy had done his utmost to convince Bingley that they should return to London on the morrow, but when the latter insisted that he wished to once again dance with Miss Bennet, Darcy then began to offer arguments against any further contact with the lady in question.

"Come man," Bingley declared, "she is an angel and you know it! Why do you persist in discouraging my attentions to her?"

"We have discussed this time and again, Bingley. With her connections she cannot marry well, and I know that you are too much of a gentleman to toy with her affections without honorable intentions. It is better to cease this flirtation now before she has her hooks into you and you find yourself compelled to take her as your wife."

"Hooks into me? How can you even suggest such a thing, Darcy? She is the most benign, pleasant girl I have ever known and uncommonly pretty. She has no desire to trick me into marriage and frankly, she needs no wiles with which to beguile me. I find her absolutely perfect."

Darcy frowned at the tone of Bingley's voice. It was evident his young friend was truly besotted with the woman, just as his sisters had warned him. If he did not stop the relationship soon, there would be no out before long. "She is pretty, I will grant you that. She is pleasant and agreeable in nature, but I see no preference for you within her looks. She smiles upon you just as she does upon others. I doubt seriously that she even thinks of you when you are not present."

Bingley's face fell so dramatically that Darcy felt a sudden touch of sympathy, fearing that perhaps he had wounded his friend too severely.

"But . . ." Bingley sputtered, "she seems genuinely happy to see me. Her greeting is always exceedingly cordial."

"As it is to me," Darcy replied. "I think your imagination has taken flight, Bingley, and the fact that the woman is not suitable for marriage is actually a point in her favor. It will be that much easier for you to break the connection now. We would much better return to London tomorrow. The sooner you put her out of your mind the better."

"No!" Bingley cried, his voice quite forceful. "I find the woman quite suitable, Darcy, and I intend to stay at least as long as the ball on Saturday."

"And you think dancing with her once again will reveal her true feelings?"

"Yes, perhaps it will! Observe her closely at the dance and I believe you will change your mind. I truly think Miss Bennet does care for me." His voice was so hopeful, with almost a pleading sound, that Darcy did not have the heart to argue further.

"Very well," he said quietly, "but I fear you are traveling down the wrong road."

With very few words, thereafter, Bingley took his leave for the night and now Darcy found himself alone with the brandy and his own conflicting thoughts. He had spoken the truth as he saw it; Miss Bennet did not appear to be enamored of Bingley. Her mother, however, was another matter. It was common knowledge how desperately she sought to affix a sacred union between the two. He shook his head at the thought of his friend being aligned with such a family. They were all utterly unsuitable, except for . . . her sister, Elizabeth.

That young woman had been a thorn in his side almost from the occasion of their first meeting. Her saucy looks and impertinent remarks caught his attention as no other woman's ever had. Although she was not exceptionally beautiful, her quick wit and intelligent conversation, coupled with her light and pleasing figure and exceptionally fine eyes made for a very attractive package. Perhaps his reason for leaving Hertfordshire was not altogether altruistic; perhaps it was not Bingley who needed rescuing as much as himself.

He stood beside the fireplace and swirled the liquid in his glass, staring into the red, blue and gold of the fire. I want her, he thought. If I am perfectly honest, that is God's truth. I want Elizabeth Bennet and I can never act upon my desires. Again and again he went over the unsuitability of such a connection and he knew such an alliance would be impossible. When he would convince himself that there was no possibility of a marriage between them, his heart would betray his logic with the thought of her tiny waist within his hands when he had prevented her falling at the Netherfield ball, or how her soft, curving body had felt lying on top of him when they had fallen in the snow, and how sweet her breath had been upon his cheek.

This is impossible! he said to himself, shaking his head as though he could banish her from his thoughts. He drained his glass and bounded up the stairs for bed, but sleep proved to be a long time coming.

~ * ~

The night of the Mistletoe Ball proved crisp and cold. Snow had fallen earlier in the day, but it had ceased a couple of hours before the dance began. Mrs. Gardiner stayed home with her children, as the youngest was nursing a cold, upon which Mrs. Bennet expressed her gratefulness for the illness of the child, as it allowed them to be conveyed to the ball without being overcrowded in the carriages. Mr. Bennet decided to forego the evening also. He much preferred a quiet evening before the fire with his favorite author to watching his youngest daughters cavort in the rollicking manner he knew they would before the evening was through. He cautioned Jane and Lizzy to watch out for them, as he knew their mother would do nothing to check their behavior.

"But do not let such responsibility keep you two from enjoying yourselves," he said, kissing them both as they bid him goodnight.

"Do not worry, Brother," Mr. Gardiner smiled. "I will keep an eye on our ladies. Enjoy your solitude this evening."

So with much bustle and noise, the five Bennet sisters, along with their mother and uncle, climbed into the two coaches and giggled and talked all the way to Meryton.

The Assembly Room was decorated in seasonal red and green with fresh boughs of holly and fir adorning the walls and tables. A large number of the community was already present and enjoying the music when the Bennets and Mr. Gardiner arrived, but Jane was disappointed that Bingley was nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps he has changed his mind and returned to London," she whispered to Lizzy, who would have none of it and admonished her to be patient, that his delay was probably due to Mr. Darcy's deliberate dawdling. Just then Wickham appeared at Lizzy's side, along with Colonel Forster and his new bride. He introduced Jane and Elizabeth to Mrs. Forster and they were surprised to see how much younger she was than her husband. She was, however, quite pretty and very pleasant and as the colonel led her to the dance floor for the first number, he positively beamed at possession of such a prize. Wickham took Lizzy's hand and they followed as the first strains of the music began. It was a lively tune and Lizzy quite enjoyed herself, relishing the fun of dancing with Wickham. He truly is such a handsome man, she thought, and so agreeable.

Towards the end of the song, there were many gasps and much laughter as Sir William Lucas appeared with his famous mistletoe stick and dangled it above the head of Mrs. Forster. She blushed prettily as her husband claimed his kiss and the entire assembly responded with applause. The laughter and remarks grew quite spirited, even raucous, as more and more trips to the wassail bowl were repeated; however, a certain hush fell over the room when Bingley and Darcy appeared. Even though Bingley was well known and likewise well thought of in the community, his clothing was so much finer than that of any other man save Darcy, that his arrival could not fail to cause a stir.

Sir William immediately greeted both the young men and Bingley soon made his way across the large hall to Jane's side. She accepted his invitation to dance and the couple found themselves standing beside Lizzy and Wickham as the first chords of the music began. Darcy had spoken to Mr. Gardiner and was actually engaged in conversation with him when he first observed Elizabeth and her partner. His somewhat genial demeanor changed immediately and a severe look of disapproval descended upon his countenance. Lizzy saw it happen, but she simply turned away, determined not to let that unbearable man spoil her evening.

This dance was a lively reel and Lizzy felt herself growing quite warm from the activity. Unknown to her, it provoked a lovely color in her cheeks and as she turned and bowed and skipped and twirled in the movements of the dance, Darcy could not fail to notice the fineness of her complexion and the bounce of her curls. The fact that she was wasting her beauty on the likes of Wickham caused no little consternation to his mood.

The evening progressed with much enjoyment by all except for Darcy. Laughter erupted each time Sir William's mistletoe provoked the stealing of a kiss. Most often, the men simply kissed their partners' cheeks, but a few were bold enough to claim a brief kiss upon their lips; more often than not, Lydia and Kitty were the subjects of such attention. Jane and Lizzy discussed with their mother curbing their younger sisters' high-spirited flirting, but she would have none of it.

"Let them enjoy themselves," she cried. "They are only young once and oh, how I wish that I was still their age!"

Lizzy rolled her eyes at Jane and walked to the punch bowl, as much to wash her hands of the responsibility as to quench her thirst. As she lifted the cup to her mouth, she was surprised to see Darcy approach. "Miss Bennet," he said with a bow. She responded in kind and then began to turn away when he detained her by speaking again.

"Your sisters seem to be enjoying themselves this evening."

Now what? Does this man presume to criticize my sisters to me? "Yes, they are," she said quite pointedly and without the slightest hint of a smile. "It is a shame not everyone possesses that ability."

"Are you referring to me, Miss Bennet?"

"I make no particular reference, but as the old saying goes, 'if the shoe fits . . .' "

He took a swallow of his drink and then spoke again. "If you would do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Bennet, it might aid me in such an ability."

Lizzy looked around quickly, searching for some excuse to refuse him. Once again, she saw Wickham approaching from across the room. I do believe he is becoming my knight in shining armor appearing at just the right moment to rescue me from this dragon of a man! "Actually, I have already promised this dance to another, sir."

Darcy saw who was approaching and the vein in his forehead stood out as he clenched his teeth. "Very well," he replied, "but I will be so bold as to claim the next." With that he bowed quickly and turned on his heel before Lizzy could make any response. Hateful man, she thought, how dare he presume that I will accept his offer! She said nothing to Wickham, though, but simply took his hand as he led her to the dance floor once again.

Fortunately, the musical number was somewhat lengthy and Lizzy's natural high spirits gave her leeway to thoroughly enjoy the clasp of Wickham's hand and rhythm of their movements. In fact, she quite forgot Darcy as she became caught up in the gaiety of the moment.

As the last notes sounded and the couples bowed to each other, cries of laughter erupted when the assembly saw the infamous mistletoe hanging over Lizzy's lovely head. A comely blush covered her cheeks and she began to find it hard to catch her breath as Wickham stepped to her side and bent to claim his kiss. Would he content himself with a kiss upon her cheek or be the bolder? She raised her face to his and felt her heart beat faster as he took her hand and inclined his lips toward hers.

But it was not to be, for just then Darcy took Elizabeth's other hand and pulled her from Wickham's presence.

"I believe this is my dance, Miss Bennet," he stated firmly. The cold glare emanating from his eyes toward Wickham left no doubt in the latter's mind as to what he might do if deterred from such action. Wickham would not contest his maneuver, only bowed and with certain deference, turned away.

Lizzy was furious! "Mr. Darcy, I must protest. The music has not yet begun for the next dance," she exclaimed. He, however, failed to release her hand and would not refrain from leading her to the opposite end of the room.

"I believe you have need of refreshment, Miss Bennet, before the next number begins. That was an exceedingly prolonged reel." With that, he poured another cup of punch and handed it to her. She took the cup but glared at him. This man is insufferable! Presumptuous! And downright rude!

"Mr. Darcy, I do not appreciate being treated in this high-handed manner! I know that you do not like Mr. Wickham, but that is no reason to publicly embarrass him or me!"

"On the contrary, madam, I meant no embarrassment toward you, but only sought to prevent your reputation being tarnished by Mr. Wickham's untoward attentions."

"And who is to say they were untoward?" she cried, her eyes flashing. "He was participating in no more than any other gentleman has done with his partner this evening."

"You approve, then, of public kisses from slight acquaintances?" he asked, his tone severe.

"I approve of light-hearted enjoyment of the season, sir, an activity, I presume, as foreign to you as dancing on the moon!"

At that moment the musicians played the first notes of the next number and with great reluctance Lizzy allowed Darcy to lead her to the floor. This time she would make no attempt at conversation; she would simply endure this dance and then absolutely, positively have nothing further to do with this horrid man! He, likewise, spoke not another word for the entirety of the dance, but his eyes never left her face. She refused to blanch at his gaze and returned it tit for tat, determined not to be cowed by his hauteur.

As the bass fiddle concluded the final notes, the assembly room grew quiet with a simultaneous intake of breath, for once again Sir William held the mistletoe over Lizzy's dark curls. She felt her face flame as the attention of the entire room focused on Darcy standing before her. Would he kiss her? If there had been time for bets, there would have been few who would have chanced it. Lizzy's breath came faster and faster as he took her hand and inclined his head. He does not dare to kiss me, her mind screamed silently, but why am I trembling? She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach and could not keep her eyelids from blinking over and over. He is actually going to kiss me!

Very close to her face and audible only to her ears, Mr. Darcy said, "When I kiss you, Miss Bennet, I will not need the inducement of mistletoe." He then touched his lips to her hand, released it, and walked out the door.

The color drained from Lizzy's face as she made her way to the perimeter of the hall. Her knees suddenly felt quite weak and she sank down on one of the chairs, aware that her breathing was shallow and ragged. When he kisses me? The gall of that man! That is one thing that will never happen!

Mary, who had not danced all evening, joined Lizzy and began to comment on Lydia and Kitty's forwardness, but Lizzy answered only in monosyllables, all the while trying to recover from Darcy's remarks without calling further attention to herself. She noticed Wickham dancing with Mrs. Forster for the second time that evening and the woman's obvious enjoyment of such coupling. She had danced with almost all of the officers during the evening, but she seemed to particularly prefer Wickham as her partner.

Suddenly Lizzy wanted to go home. This entire evening had provoked such a barrage of emotions that she wished for nothing more than to be outside, alone, away from the heat and press of others. She was quite relieved when the announcement of the last dance was made and even though Wickham asked for her hand, she begged off, complaining of a headache. Instead of remaining by her side, he claimed Lydia for the number and she watched as her youngest sister flirted and giggled throughout the dance.

At last they were in the coach, returning to Longbourn. Jane and Mary had ridden with Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner and Lizzy found herself in the coach with her two youngest sisters. They could not be still for a moment and Lizzy longed for the peace and quiet of her own room.

Lydia went on and on about how many officers she had danced with and how many times she had been kissed. Elizabeth chided her for being so flirtatious. "A girl who gives her kisses lightly may achieve a certain reputation, Lydia. I would not brag about such a thing."

"Oh, no one cares about that sort of thing any more," her sister replied, tossing her curls. "I would much rather be so popular as to be like Mary, who did not even dance one dance!" This provoked much giggling between the two younger girls.

"I must say Mr. Darcy was not very gallant toward you, Lizzy," Lydia remarked. "He flatly refused to kiss you! Of course, I would not want his kisses, myself, for he seems like such a cold fish."

"Neither do I," Lizzy answered, "it was certainly no loss to me."

"What did he say to you when he was kissing your hand?" Kitty asked. "He had a most peculiar look on his face."

When I kiss you . . . His words resounded in Lizzy's ears and his image suddenly appeared before her, the darkness of his eyes piercing hers. She shook her head as though she could make it disappear and said simply, "Nothing of consequence, believe me."

When at last in the sanctity of her bedroom, Lizzy examined her face in the mirror. Why had Mr. Darcy said what he did? Could he possess so much arrogance that he thought she wished to be kissed by him? Well, of course! He was so rich he supposed every unmarried woman in the country had set her cap for him. And why had he prevented Wickham from kissing her? She did not believe for one moment that he was concerned about her reputation. He had such little regard for her that protecting her good name would surely be the least of his concerns. How I hope he leaves for London soon and never returns!

~ * ~

Bingley and Darcy did return to town the following week and 10 days later Jane received a letter from Caroline stating that the entire party had no intention of returning to Netherfield. This, of course, saddened Jane exceedingly and Lizzy tried to cheer her but to no avail. At last, she suggested that Jane return to town with the Gardiners after Christmas in the hopes of seeing Bingley there. The plan was agreeable to her sister and their aunt and uncle and so Jane's mood was lightened and she remained cheerful through the holidays.

Christmas came and went and was enjoyed by all. The Gardiners and Jane took their leave the following week, and although Lizzy greatly missed her sister, she felt quite certain that this was the best thing for Jane to do. Darcy and Bingley's sisters may have thought they had successfully thwarted the budding romance, but never underestimate the power of a woman in love and her very resourceful sister.

January passed into February and that month, too, soon drew to an end. Wickham and several of the other officers called often and Lizzy found herself looking forward to his visits more and more. They spent as much time as possible outside, walking through the snow-covered garden and sometimes through Longbourn Village to the adjoining country lanes, always accompanied, of course, by Lydia or Kitty and Denny or Lt. Sanderson.

On one such walk, Wickham walked slower and slower, thereby causing he and Lizzy to lag behind the others until they were out of sight.

"At last, Miss Bennet, we are somewhat alone. You know, it is sometimes quite difficult to avoid your younger sisters."

Lizzy laughed and agreed with him. "Yes, they are persistent."

"I can be persistent, too, Elizabeth."

That was the first time he had addressed her by her given name and the familiarity of it shocked her, but the sensation was not unpleasant. "What do you mean, Mr. Wickham?" she asked, her voice soft and low.

"I mean that for some time I have wished for an opportunity to be alone with you," he answered, taking both her hands in his. "Miss Bennet, you must know how I feel. I am certain that my emotions cannot be hidden from you. Since not long after I met you I have found myself falling violently in love with you."

"Mr. Wickham," she murmured.

"Do I dare hope that you may reciprocate my feelings at least to some small degree?"

"I confess I do like you . . . very much . . . I like you," she stammered.

"Enough to marry me?"

Lizzy's eyes widened. "Are you proposing, Mr. Wickham?"

"I am, most assuredly," he replied. "And what say you? Are you up for becoming a soldier's wife? I cannot promise you a life of ease, as you know the unfortunate circumstances surrounding my promised living, but I can give you a life of adventure, new experiences, little boredom."

"I have never desired great riches, only a decent home and the companionship of a constant heart; however, this does takes me by surprise. Please . . . please allow me time to consider it."

"Of course, as you wish. I realize it is a big step and deserving of contemplation, for I have spent endless days and nights consumed by the very thought. I would beg you, though, not to make me wait too long. You would not want to be the cause of depriving a soldier of his sleep, would you? I assure you I will endure nothing but sleepless nights until you give me your answer." He gazed into her eyes so steadily and with such affection that Lizzy almost said yes at that moment, but something held her back. I must think on this - marriage is for always, an inner voice whispered in her head.

"I would ask that we keep this between ourselves until you decide," he said. "I have no desire to publicly play the fool for daring to ask for the hand of one so far above me."

"Certainly," Lizzy answered quickly, "but why would you speak of such disparity between us? I have never considered myself above you, Mr. Wickham."

"No, you would not, for you are far too kind, but your father is a gentleman while mine only served as steward to a gentleman."

Lizzy was struck by his humility and her heart went out to him. "Mr. Wickham, you have nothing of which to be ashamed. Would that more gentlemen conduct themselves as you do each day. I have observed nothing but the best of manners and the kindest of spirits. I feel - no, I am certain - that you would be at ease in any society."

"That is quite generous of you, but you must admit that your father may not look with pleasure upon your marriage to a man with no fortune, especially since you have lived at such a place as Longbourn all your life."

"Longbourn is a modest abode, Mr. Wickham. Surely you can see that. It does not compare to Netherfield Hall, for example, and although my father does own an estate, I have little dowry and will inherit very little in the event he dies. In fact, the entire place is entailed away upon Mr. Collins."

"Indeed?" Wickham frowned. "And yet you did not agree to marry Mr. Collins?"

Lizzy looked away and groaned, "You've heard about that?"

"It was talked of throughout Meryton."

"Yes, well, I love my family, but there are some sacrifices I am unwilling to make."

Wickham smiled. "I am exceedingly glad that you did not." They began to walk up the path then, continuing their conversation. They talked of Wickham's childhood, how he had grown up as Darcy's playmate and was a particular favorite of Georgiana, the younger daughter of the manor.

"And is Miss Darcy much like her brother?"

"For the longest time I thought not. She is more than 10 years his junior and seemed quite unspoiled to me, but now that she is older, I am afraid she is very much altered. She seems to have taken on her brother's demeanor."

"I am sorry to hear that," Lizzy replied. "I believe I have never known a more disagreeable man than Mr. Darcy. Tell me, did he mistreat you throughout your childhood and had you any inkling that he would disdain his father's wishes in the future?"

"I believe Darcy was always somewhat envious of me, although for the life of me I cannot fathom why. I was nothing in comparison to him, for he was the heir, the darling of the servants and adored by his sister. His mother died when Miss Darcy was born, so brother and sister were always close and I, as a child, played happily with Darcy and devoted hours to his sister's amusement."

"Then why should Mr. Darcy be jealous of you?"

"Alas, his father had a special place for me in his heart. Old Mr. Darcy was the kindest and best of men and when my father died, I feel that he began to look upon me as a son, that he loved me even. He sent me to Cambridge with Darcy and financed my entire education. When I look back upon the situation, I detect that is when Darcy began to truly hate me. He did not look with favor upon the fact that his father would treat me almost as well as his own son."

"None of that is your fault, Mr. Wickham," Lizzy said with emphasis, "it only reflects well on your own excellent character. I have never liked Mr. Darcy, but to think that he would not honor the wishes of his father's will I still find shocking! I had not thought him to be as bad as all that!"

By that time they had walked within eyesight of their companions and Denny called to hasten them on, as they wished to go into Meryton for tea. They both waved and nodded, but Wickham slowed his gait so that he and Lizzy would remain out of earshot.

"You will not keep me waiting for an answer too long, I hope?" he asked.

"I will not, sir."

"Within the week?"

"Within the week, I am sure," she murmured, gazing steadily into his eyes. He smiled then and taking her hand, tucked it into his arm and they proceeded on to join the others.

Chapter 3

The week after Wickham's proposal to Elizabeth was not easy for her. Over and over she debated the merits of such a marriage. His affection for her was true - of that she had not the slightest doubt - but how did she feel toward him? She had never been in love before and thus knew nothing of its symptoms. How she longed to talk it over with Jane, but her sister remained in London with the Gardiners. A letter arrived from her that same week which only added to Lizzy's indecision, for Bingley had thus far failed to call upon Jane. The possibility of failure to secure Bingley caused Lizzy's practical side to rear its head. If Jane had no prospects of matrimony, she knew that when Wickham applied for her hand, her father would not look on his lack of fortune with alacrity.

Well, I always said I would not be the one to marry for money, she reminded herself, but then her earlier statement of marrying only for the very deepest kind of love haunted her. Was this feeling she had for Wickham truly love, the kind of love for which she yearned? She thought of all the married couples of her acquaintance, searching for an example on which to pattern. Her good friend, Charlotte Lucas, had married Mr. Collins simply to be settled in a comfortable home; she had no desire for romance. Lizzy knew for a fact that she felt more for Wickham today than Charlotte would ever feel toward her husband. As for her parents' marriage, there was no question that it was not a picture she wished to duplicate. Their obvious mismatch of personalities proved a daily portrayal of two people who should never have married.

Do I know any happily married couple, she mused, and then she thought of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. Now, if I could feel toward my husband the way Aunt Gardiner does, I would know it is love! Her aunt spoke of her husband with the highest regard, they treated each other with great affection, and Lizzy had never heard a cross word pass between them. What would she not give to have a heart to heart talk with her aunt, but that was impossible since she was in London and Lizzy had promised Wickham an answer within the week.

By Friday Lizzy knew she had to make a decision, for Wickham and his friends would be calling the next day and the young people had made plans to walk to Oakham Mount. He would expect her answer and she must make up her mind. With this deadline looming over her and having no one else to turn to, Lizzy reluctantly sought out her mother, who was spending the day in bed because of various aches and pains.

"Mamma, I hope you are feeling better," she said, entering the room with a fresh pot of tea. "Will you not take some refreshment with me?"

"Oh, yes, Lizzy, that does sound good and cut me another piece of that cake on the table there. Perhaps the taste of sugar will cheer me enough so that I can forget these pains in my side and head."

Lizzy provided the cake and tea and settled herself in the chair next to her mother's bed. "Mamma, did you know our Aunt Gardiner before she married your brother?"

"Well, of course I did. In fact, I was the one who introduced them, you know."

"No, I did not."

"Yes, your father and I were married years earlier and I already had - let me see - Jane and you and Mary and I believe Kitty by the time they married. Do you not remember that we traveled to London for the wedding?"

"No, Mamma, I was far too young."

"Yes, well, I guess you were."

"Tell me," Lizzy ventured, "was it a love match?"

"A love match?" her mother looked somewhat incredulous.

"Yes, did my aunt marry for love or convenience?"

"Well, certainly not convenience! I should say not, indeed. My brother did not yet own his business when he courted Madeline. He was just beginning as a clerk and had a long way to go. I remember how her father objected to the marriage at first." She popped the last piece of cake in her mouth and licked her fingers. "No, it was not a marriage of convenience. Madeline could have had her pick of young men, for she was quite pretty, you know, when she was younger."

"Then she married my uncle because she loved him?" Lizzy asked.

"Well," her mother replied, sipping her tea, "I wouldn't say Madeline loved my brother when they married. She certainly liked him, that was obvious, because he has always had a kind way about him, you know."

Lizzy looked confused. "But they seem to be such a happy couple. It appears that they are quite in love."

"Well, yes, I would say they are. But Lizzy, love often comes after marriage, and the fact that they had a strong regard for each other was all that was needed for them to marry."

"Really? Nothing more than a strong regard?"

"Yes! And that is why I wanted you to marry Mr. Collins! He had a very strong regard for you and would have made you a fine, proper husband, besides which if you had done so I would not live in fear of being turned out of my very own home when your father dies!" Once again she began to rant on the ingratitude of her second eldest daughter.

"But Mamma," Lizzy sighed, "I had no feelings of regard for Mr. Collins. Absolutely none!"

"Lizzy, you cannot go around with your head in the clouds looking for a knight on a white horse! As long as you like someone, love will follow after marriage. Believe me!"

"Will it, Mamma? Truly?"

"Yes, it will. Now, you listen to me: If you are ever fortunate enough to attract another proposal, and I have very little hope that you will, you cannot afford to look upon it with disdain. Do not be a fool, Lizzy. Think of your future and that of your family!" She sighed and lifted her hand to her forehead. "I can talk no more. Let me rest, for I have such flutterings in my chest and beatings in my head and pains in my side."

Lizzy stood then and kissed her mother's cheek, and placing her cup and saucer on the bedside table, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

~ * ~

On Saturday Wickham, Denny and Carter called early and Lizzy and her two youngest sisters put on their capes and bonnets and walked out with the young officers. It was still cold, but there was no wind and the sun graced the day with its warmth. Much conversation and laughter ensued among them with Lydia persisting in teasing each of the men with her flirtatious talk and sassy remarks. She paid such particular attention to Wickham that Lizzy wondered how they would ever escape her long enough to speak in private, for she was certain that was Wickham's desire. And, in truth, it was hers, also, for she had made up her mind.

Not one to tolerate indecision for an indefinite period of time, she had resolved to rely on her first impression of Mr. Wickham. He had been amiable, charming, and quite agreeable from the very beginning. From all he had told her, she divined that his character was trustworthy, and the fact that he had endured such misfortunes at the hand of Darcy and yet still embraced life with a sanguine nature, added to his appeal. She enjoyed being in his company and if this feeling for him that resided within her was not love, it was regard, a very high regard. According to her mother, her aunt had married with no more affection than Lizzy possessed and her marriage was successful. Why, then, could not Lizzy hope for the same outcome of such a union with Wickham?

At length, they all reached Oakham Mount and spying a tree stump and some fallen logs, the girls settled themselves to rest from their hike. It was not Lydia's nature, however, to sit still for long and she soon ran farther up the hill, calling to the others to join her. Even though she was coughing, Kitty jumped up to walk with Denny and Carter, for she had no intention of allowing Lydia to command the attentions of both. Wickham laughed at their foolishness, but made no move to follow them; instead, with a boyish smile, he gave Lizzy a long, searching look. Taking his hat in his hand and bracing his boot against the side of the log on which she sat, he leaned forward, resting his forearm upon his knee and thereby narrowing the distance between them.

"At last, Miss Eliza, we are alone. Do I dare presume that you are as happy with this situation as I . . . and may I further hope that you are about to make me the happiest of men by accepting my proposal of marriage?"

Lizzy took a deep breath and turned her face up to him. "You may, Mr. Wickham. I answer yes to both your questions."

Tossing his hat aside, he took both her hands and raised her to stand before him. "Eliza! I am overjoyed!"

He pulled her even nearer then and she closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her. Never having been really kissed before, she did not know exactly what to expect; she assumed it would be short and chaste, but pleasant. Wickham, however, began to kiss her with a ferocity that took her breath away and she soon found herself protesting. "Mr. Wickham, we are not far from the others. I believe we must take care."

"Eliza, Eliza, I have wanted to kiss you for so long that I quite forgot myself," he smiled, while still holding her close. "And may I hope that you have felt the same desire for some time? That scoundrel Darcy prevented our kissing at the ball, but there is no one present now to bring any impediment. I hear no rustling among the grass signaling your sisters' return. Come, kiss me again." And with that Wickham lifted her face to his and began to kiss her anew, his attentions so passionate Lizzy began to push against him.

"Mr. Wickham, we must restrain ourselves. After all, we are not yet publicly attached. You must speak to my father and I think the sooner the better."

Releasing her, Wickham laughed, "Very well, my lady, I will restrain myself for now, but do not think you can deprive me of your attentions for long."

"Then I take it you wish for a short engagement," she suggested. "I have no objection to that."

An odd look fell upon Wickham's countenance then and he looked away, taking a few steps back from her before turning to face her once again. "Actually, Eliza, I fear we will have to endure the agonies of an engagement for some time."

"What do you mean?"

"As you know, since the living I was promised has been refused me by Mr. Darcy, I am just beginning to make my way and I confess I find myself somewhat short of funds at the moment. My only hope to be able to support you in the manner to which you are accustomed is by quickly rising in rank through the militia."

"I do not require that we live as my parents do," she answered. "I will be content to live as a soldier's wife."

"I am sure that you would, given your kind and generous nature, but I could not live with myself if I did not provide the very best for you. No, we must wait to marry until I have achieved certain promotions."

Lizzy frowned, but she could see the wisdom in his reply. "How long do you think that might take?"

"I really have no idea, as I am only a junior officer at present," he replied. "I do know one thing. Colonel Forster is the key to my advancement, so I must ingratiate myself with him if I have any hope at all."

"I was not aware that the personal preference of the Colonel played such a heavy role. I would have thought your ability and performance would hold greater weight."

"Oh, it does," Wickham readily agreed, "and I apply myself with diligence to every command of duty for I cannot bear to be idle, but I have observed that those who move up the quickest are those who are favored by the Colonel, and, in turn . . . by the Colonel's wife."

"Mrs. Forster! I do not understand."

"It seems that the Colonel is besotted by his young bride and word is, that he refuses her nothing. He is 20 years her senior and treats her as though she were a spoiled pet."

"But what does that have to do with you?" Lizzy asked, obvious bewilderment evident in her voice.

"Why, everything!" he exclaimed. "It is an acknowledged fact among my comrades that the officers who are advancing the fastest are those who are favorites of Mrs. Forster. And that is why we must keep our engagement a secret."

"A secret? I fail to comprehend your meaning."

"I regret that Mrs. Forster prefers unmarried officers around her. She is a hopeless flirt and fancies herself a heartbreaker. If I am to rise in rank quickly, I must play to her vanity."

"In what way?" Lizzy asked skeptically.

"By flattery, little gifts, attentions, all the things that charm women."

"I beg your pardon, but flattery does not charm me and I resent your implication that all women are so shallow."

Lizzy was now quite flustered at the thought of her future husband paying attention to a silly married woman. She began to pace back and forth, her face becoming quite flushed.

"Eliza, I did not mean to infer that you are that kind of woman. By no means! Why, you are far too intelligent to fall for such foolishness, but Mrs. Forster is exactly that type, and there's the rub. In order for me to make a living that will support the two of us, I must play along with her whims and fancies."

"But why can you not do so if you are engaged? I would feel very uncomfortable being secretly betrothed. Something about it does not seem . . . quite honest."

Wickham sighed and shook his head. "Believe me, if it became known that I was engaged, Mrs. Forster would drop me like a hot coal, and my chances for advancement would evaporate into the mist. I fear that being secretly attached is the sole answer, for Colonel Forster listens only to his wife and his desire to please her far outweighs any personal ability I might possess."

Wickham took her hands in his and once again pulled her close. "My dear, you are everything that is fine and good. I know you do not deserve such treatment, but it is the only way for us." When she failed to meet his gaze, he raised her chin with his forefinger. "Come now, Eliza, being secretly engaged will not be so bad. It will be a delicious secret between no one but you and me. Does not the forbidden nature of it give our attachment even more appeal?" He began to kiss her then, once again quickly accelerating his passion until she was forced to break away.

"Mr. Wickham, please," she managed to utter, trying to catch her breath. "You forget yourself."

"On the contrary, Eliza, I am trying to show you how much I adore you. And since we are now engaged I see nothing wrong with physically expressing our feelings." He reached for her once again, but Lizzy pulled away.

"I will consent to keeping our engagement secret, sir, but we must be discreet, and kissing in a public place is playing with fire. We might be observed at any moment."

"Somehow, I have always liked playing with fire," Wickham said, "but I see I am going to have to teach you how to stoke one."

What does he mean by that remark, she wondered, but said nothing, when he at last modified his attentions and they were soon joined by the others.

~ * ~

That night, alone in her bed, Lizzy's mind would not quiet; in truth, her thoughts jumped from one idea to the other in such a whirl that she found it hard to lie still, but rather turned from side to side on her pillow. Wickham loved her - that was good news - he would be her husband - that was good news - but not any time soon - that was bad news - and they must keep their engagement a secret - more bad news. She could not feel easy about the idea of hiding their attachment from her family. Wickham had warned her not to tell anyone, not even Jane, which, when he had first said it, caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up and she felt a chill descend over her entire body. To keep something from Jane, something of this importance, did not seem right to Lizzy.

She told herself that she should be deliriously happy. After all, Wickham was young and handsome, intelligent and resourceful. Although he lacked fortune, it was due to no failing on his part, and she felt quite sure that he would provide for her adequately. Then, the thought of how he was to achieve his promotions in the militia provoked a sigh from deep within her. She did not like to reflect on Wickham paying his attentions to another woman, even though she might be a harmless, vain flirt. He had warned Lizzy that they must avoid paying close attention to each other when in public so as not to raise talk among the gossips of Meryton, which, being a sensible woman, she knew was necessary, as talk of matches and mating was primary among Hertfordshire society. Still, it did not set well with her.

Even more disturbing to Lizzy, however, had been her reaction to Wickham's physical affection. Having never been kissed before, she had not known quite what to expect, but she had anticipated a more pleasurable response on her part. Surely, she was not to be one of those women who disliked romantic affection! She had heard snippets of gossip about such ladies, but had always assumed that if it happened, it must mean that they felt no true love or feeling for their mates. Mr. Wickham was very handsome, his manners quite pleasing, and she had been gratified to learn that he loved her. Why had she not welcomed his kisses more and why had she only wished for them to cease?

It must be because of the secrecy forced upon them, she thought, sitting up and punching her pillow one last time. I will develop a taste for Mr. Wickham's kisses . . . there, I have set my mind on it. I will think of it no longer and I will now go to sleep.

But she did not for many more hours that night.

~ * ~

The next evening the Gouldings had invited some of the officers, Wickham being one of them, to have a night of supper and cards at their home. The Bennets also were invited, as well as Sir William Lucas' family, Mr. and Mrs. Philips, and several other local families. Wickham had not called on Lizzy during the day, so she was eager to see him and took particular pains with her dress and hair. This would be their first night in public after making their secret pact and she was somewhat nervous about how to conceal her regard. She had avoided her family for most of the day, preferring to walk alone in the woods or read in her room. Tonight, however, there was no escape from other people and she knew that she must guard the excitement of her emotions.

Sure enough, when Lizzy entered the Gouldings' parlor, she felt her color rise as she spied Wickham's tall straight back, but then a frown knit her brows when she observed him in close conversation with a tiny, red-headed young woman. He bent his head to speak close to her ear and Lizzy could not help but notice the sparkle in the girl's eyes. There could be no mistaking the intimacy of their tête-à-tête.

Just then Sir William greeted Lizzy and she was swept into the general discourse of meeting and mingling with her friends and neighbors. Lydia and Kitty immediately crossed the room to join the throng of redcoats surrounding the red-headed girl, for Lydia had never suffered from any sense of social obligation and felt no need to waste her time conversing with older folk at any gathering. Lizzy moved from one group to another, all the while aware of Wickham's presence. Eventually, most all of the military men spoke to her except for the one man she most wished would do so; he never once looked in her direction.

By the time the supper buffet was announced, Lizzy was too angry to eat. Instead of joining the line at the table, she slipped out into the hall, donned her cloak, and stepped outside. The cold night air fanned her warm face but did nothing to quell the fire within her heart. How could he ignore her so completely, she wondered. Would not his lack of attention be just as noticeable to their acquaintances as too much of the same?

She paced back and forth near the entrance of the house and debated on whether to slip around back where she could have even more privacy to sort out her feelings. The men servants were gathered near the carriages, however, and she realized she could go nowhere unobserved by them. Seeing there was no place to hide, she resigned herself to enter the house once more and walking through the front door, she came face to face with Wickham.

"Miss Bennet, I was just looking for you. Are you unwell? I fear you may have been overcome by the heat, for I do think the Gouldings have overestimated the number of logs they need on the fire."

Lizzy frowned at his formal address and searched his eyes for some sign of intimacy. "I am perfectly well."

"Then come in and partake of the excellent supper that has been provided for us by our hosts."

"Is an invitation to supper the only thing you wish to extend to me, sir?"

Wickham frowned and then whispered, "It is the only thing I believe expedient to extend at this time, Eliza, but you know in your heart what I would prefer to do if we were free to do so!" He looked steadily into her eyes with that statement and Lizzy felt her anger melting as she recognized the desire therein. He went on to say very quietly, "Eliza, you know that I cannot show you any preference in public. We discussed this and I thought you understood."

"I do understand," she whispered, "but do you not believe that utter disregard for me is just as noticeable to our friends as an excess of attention? After all, we have been seen together a great deal in the past. Will it not appear that we have quarreled if you now ignore me totally?"

"You are right, of course, my dear. I was overcompensating, as I am in such violent need to marry you that I would do anything to hasten my military promotions so that we could announce our union to the world."

Lizzy could not help but smile at his earnest declaration and her fears and doubts subsided as he took her arm and steered her toward the drawing room.

"Come," he said, "let me escort you to the buffet and then you must sit with me while we eat."

Lizzy did her best to wipe the smile from her face as they entered the room. They filled their plates and then joined Mrs. Forster and her group of redcoats and young women.

"Miss Eliza," Mrs. Forster began, "have you met my friend, Mary King?"

Lizzy curtsied in greeting and asked her how long she had been in Meryton. She learned that Miss King had been visiting Mrs. Forster but two days and would soon be on her way to Lancashire to join her uncle's household. When the conversation progressed to other subjects, Maria Lucas, who sat on Lizzy's left, confided quietly that Mary King had recently lost her grandfather and thus inherited a fortune of 10,000 pounds. They both agreed that was a virtue, indeed, especially in the eyes of marriage minded young men!

"Wickham," Mrs. Forster said, "Miss King will be in need of an escort on her trip. What say you to accompanying her?" And then turning to the young woman, she smiled, "Am I not a thoughtful friend to provide you with such a handsome attendant?"

Wickham immediately bowed to both ladies. "I am at your service, Ma'am, and cannot think of a more delightful task unless it were to escort both of you fair ladies."

Lizzy felt a slight wave of nausea wash over her. How easily and freely he charms! She cleared her throat and said as lightly as possible, "Will not your military duties preclude you from such an excursion, sir?"

Mrs. Forster laughed gaily before answering for Wickham, "Miss Eliza, believe me, if I wish for Wickham to escort my friend, his military duties will not stand in the way. You forget that I have an abundant amount of influence with his commanding officer." The entire group then laughed knowingly, but it was all that Lizzy could do to simply smile.

She did not care for this woman. Something about her was exceedingly distasteful. Without further comment, Lizzy slipped away and joined her sister, Mary at the piano. Even listening to her choppy chords and occasional misfingering were preferable to the flirting ways of Mrs. Forster.

Lizzy did not go near Wickham for the remainder of the evening and she was much relieved when her mother at last signaled that it was time to go. She could hardly wait for the sanctity of her own room. As she walked into the hall to receive her coat from the servant, though, she heard a familiar voice in her ear. "Allow me, Miss Bennet."

Wickham held her coat and as he slipped it over her shoulders, he whispered, "Look in your pocket when you get home." Lizzy turned to say goodnight, but he had already given his attentions to Lydia and Kitty and assured them that he would call as soon as he returned from Lancashire. With only one brief glance at Lizzy, he escorted her younger sisters out the door and into the waiting carriage. Lizzy was left alone to take her leave, for by the time she reached the steps of the coach, Wickham had already moved on to assist Mary King. She sighed as she took the servant's hand and joined her sisters inside.

"La, isn't Mrs. Forster pretty?" Lydia cried. "She wears all the latest fashions, you know, and her taste is flawless. She told me she would be glad to help me trim my new bonnet next week. I am to come to tea on Wednesday! Now, isn't that just a piece of luck? I'll be sure to see all the officers when I visit her."

"I don't see why she did not invite me, too?" Kitty pouted. "Lizzy, why should she invite Lydia, and not me?"

"I'm sure I do not know, Kitty," Lizzy murmured, a tired look descending upon her countenance.

"I cannot help it if Mrs. Forster wants me for her particular friend," Lydia crowed, "but I'll tell you all about the great time I have when I get back!"

At this Kitty began to cry in earnest and Lizzy closed her eyes and sighed again, willing the horses to trot faster so that this evening could be over. How I wish I had gone to London with Jane, she thought, but then she slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the piece of paper there.

At home at last and in the seclusion of her room, Lizzy read Wickham's note first thing.

Meet me at the bridge at noon tomorrow. -GW

The maid walked in just then, carrying fresh candles and a pitcher of warm water. When she began to open a drawer to get her young lady's gown, Lizzy quickly dismissed her, telling her she would need no further assistance. After the maid's departure, Lizzy thought of burning Wickham's note. She knew it was a definite breach of propriety for a single man to write to an unmarried woman and no one must ever read this note. It was the first time she had seen his handwriting, though, and she could not bring herself to destroy it, finally tucking it away in a secret compartment of her writing desk. After dressing for bed, she crawled under the covers, hoping to put the disappointment of the night to rest in hopes of a happier day tomorrow. Still, each time she pictured Wickham's handsome face, Mrs. Forster's laughing eyes reappeared over and over, along with Mary King's red curls.

I thought being engaged would be the happiest time in my life, she thought. Thus far, it has failed, so I can only look forward to a better day tomorrow.

chapter 4

The morning's post brought another letter from Jane and Lizzy escaped to the window seat in her room to read it privately. Disappointment swept over her when she read how rudely Jane had been treated by Caroline Bingley and how she had failed to even see Mr. Bingley during her visit nor had he called upon her, although his sister assured her that he knew of her presence in town. Lizzy found this hard to believe and doubted the veracity of Caroline's statement.

She drew her shawl around her as she leaned against the windowpane, feeling the chill through the glass. Snow had begun falling again, lightly, but steadily. Here it was almost March and still snowing. How she wished Jane was at home and that she was at liberty to talk to her about her disappointment and also about her own secret engagement. The clock chimed half past 11 and she rose and checked her appearance in the mirror before descending the stairs and reaching for her coat and bonnet.

"I'm going for a walk, Mamma," she called lightly at the doorway of the parlor.

"In this weather, child? Can't you see it is snowing again?"

"It's very light and I won't be long, I promise." Lizzy skipped out the door before her mother could reply. No one in her family liked to traipse through the woods as much as she did, which proved to be fortunate as it provided her with a pastime today that would in no way be looked upon with suspicion. She completed the walk to the bridge in less than half an hour and found herself pacing back and forth attempting to keep warm while she awaited first sight of Wickham. At first she had been nervous that they might not be alone, as the place was well traveled, but the inclement weather proved to be on their side and provided a solitary meeting place.

Lizzy had no way of knowing how long she had been waiting, but she was sure it was some time past noon and still there appeared no sign of Wickham. She was growing quite cold and had resolved to quit the place when she spied the red and black of his uniform and cloak as he walked around the bend in the road.

"At last," she said, "I was about to give you up."

He said not a word but immediately took her into his arms and began to kiss her as though they were so intimate there was no need for excuse nor apology for lateness nor even greeting. Lizzy found it hard to catch her breath between kisses and she finally pushed at his chest and attempted to step away, but he only pulled her closer.

"Sir, please!" she cried, putting her hand against his mouth.

He would not be discouraged, but rather took the opportunity to kiss her fingers. "Eliza, why are you so timid? Are you not glad to see me?"

"I am . . . I am glad to see you, but must I remind you that we are still in a public place?"

"Where? Where is this public you speak of? I am aware of no one but you and me and this cold weather and the warmth you and I can provide in each other's arms." He reached for her waist again and Lizzy had to step quickly to avoid his close embrace.

"Anyone might come, sir, surely you realize that. Would you play havoc with my reputation so easily?"

Wickham laughed. "You worry too much, Eliza. Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters."

"I have never considered my reputation to be a trivial matter. Perhaps that is not the only thing upon which we disagree."

Wickham lowered his head in child-like fashion and looked up at her, his brown eyes wide and innocent at the rebuke he heard in her voice. "Do not tell me you are still angry about last night, my dear. I told you how it must be. Surely you have lived long enough in this world to see on which side your bread is buttered."

Lizzy turned away, a bitter taste arising in her throat once again. "If you are saying that I must play up to Mrs. Forster and her vanity in order for our marriage to take place sooner rather than later, I do not think much of the scheme."

"You misunderstand me, Eliza. You need have nothing to do with Mrs. Forster. If truth be told, I think she prefers your younger sister, Lydia, to you anyway; but last night should have shown you the accuracy of my earlier admonition. My rise in rank and position sits squarely in the lap of Col. Forster's wife. I must please her if I am to please him."

"And this includes leaving town with her young, single friend?"

"If that is what she wants, yes," he replied and then lifted her chin, looking directly into her eyes. "Oh, I see what it is. You are jealous of Miss King, are you not?"

Lizzy's eyes flamed and she felt the color rise in her countenance. "I am not of a jealous nature, sir. But would it not be natural to be concerned at the idea of my fiancé escorting a pretty young woman to another town alone?"

"Ah, but we will not be alone," Wickham smiled. "Mrs. Forster has changed her mind."

"She has?"

"Yes, the Colonel's lady will accompany us. I will be escorting both ladies to Lancashire, so you see you have nothing to concern yourself about. I will be perfectly safe from Miss King's charms with Mrs. Forster along as chaperone."

Wickham's words did nothing to alleviate Lizzy's fears, but she chewed her lip and said only, "How long will you be gone?"

"About a fortnight, I believe," he answered. "That is why I wanted to see you alone today, as we depart first thing in the morning."

"I leave for Kent in less than two weeks. It seems I will be gone by the time you return."

"Ah, yes, the trip to see Mr. and Mrs. Collins. I remember your mentioning that planned excursion, but I had not realized the time drew so near. Well, be sure to take notice of the grandeur of Lady Catherine De Bourgh's house and the suitability of her daughter for Mr. Darcy's bride." He laughed at the thought and Lizzy could not help but do the same.

"I have no fear of missing such an attraction, since my cousin is enthralled with all that pertains to Lady Catherine."

"Then I shall look forward to hearing all about it upon your return."

"Shall you miss me, sir?" she asked with a wistful look. "I fear we will not see each other until well after Easter."

"Eliza, how can you even ask such a question? I am exceedingly loathe to part with you. You need have no fear otherwise." Wickham tried to pull her close once again, but she stepped out of his arms and stared down at the water rushing below them.

"Come now, why do you turn from me?"

"I cannot feel easy about our situation," she said quietly.

"Our situation? Did we not go over this but two days ago? Have I not made an adequate case for the secrecy of our attachment?"

"I can see your reasoning for it, but it causes me nothing but unease and disquiet. I have never before been party to any type of deceit or disguise and it goes against my nature. To cause me to enter into such behavior brings to mind all kinds of doubt."

"Doubt? Against whom? Against me?" Wickham cried, his voice somewhat harsher than she had ever heard before.

Lizzy made no answer, but could not meet his eyes. She did not want to believe there was anything false in this man; when she thought of all he had suffered in the past, how his future had been wrenched from his hands, and how he had no one in this world, no family to love or support him, her heart went out to him. How could she doubt him? There was no look of guile in his eyes nor on his countenance.

"Miss Bennet," he began again in a much quieter voice, "Were you in earnest when you agreed to be my wife?"

"Yes, of course," she murmured. "You know that I am."

"And do you believe in your heart that the agreement between us is binding, as binding as though we had already published the banns in church before all of our friends and family?"

"Yes, I do believe that, sir."

"Then why do you persist in tormenting both you and me with such talk. Come into my arms and banish such thoughts. Let us unite our lips as we have already united our hearts."

Lizzy swallowed and turned to look him directly in the eye. "But we have not united our lives legally as of yet, Mr. Wickham."

"Not legally," he cried, his voice rising again, "but is not our private pledge as deep an attachment as standing before the rector? Or do you make these types of promises in private only to disavow them later? Come now, Madam, I cannot believe that of you!"

"Of course I do no such thing, sir. You mistake my meaning!" Why was he twisting her words so?

Wickham softened his look and voice when he saw her anger rising. "Then be assured, Eliza, that in my own heart I consider us the same as married. I am as bound to you as though the vicar has already said the proper words and I trust that you feel the same. Our engagement may have to be kept secret, but it is just as binding as though it were known to all. Will you agree with me?"

"I will," she replied.

"Then what are we arguing about? Come, kiss me one last time and then I must return. Duty awaits me and I fear that I am already late for my afternoon assignment."

Lizzy allowed him to take her hand and draw her back to his side. "I will miss you, sir."

He kissed her lightly this time. "As I will you, my dear. Do not be surprised, though, if you receive a letter from me. I do not think I can go two months without speaking to you."

"But how?" Lizzy replied. "We cannot write to each other without being publicly attached."

"Never underestimate the cleverness of George Wickham!" he smiled. "I will find a way! And now, au revoir, my sweet!" With one last kiss of her fingertips, he bowed and left her alone with her thoughts . . . and her fears.

Lizzy returned home just as her family assembled around the table for luncheon. After shedding her coat and bonnet and with a quick washing of hands and smoothing of curls, she took her place beside her father. Keeping her head down, she attended to her soup with an unusual fervor, hoping that no one would ask her about her walk. She could not help but feel that the impression of Wickham's kisses was somehow shining upon her countenance like bright, red tomatoes and that her entire family could plainly see what she had been doing! Fortunately, Kitty and Lydia were still engaged in the dispute concerning Mrs. Forster's selection of Lydia as her friend, so no one even seemed to notice Lizzy. Their voices rose higher and higher as they argued, until Mrs. Bennet's nerves began to act up.

"No more, I tell you, no more, girls! I cannot bear this constant bickering between the two of you!" she cried. "Mr. Bennet, will you not intervene and proclaim our dinner table off limits to such behavior?"

Mr. Bennet simply shrugged his shoulders and continued to eat, as though the behavior of his two youngest daughters was not important enough in his estimation to merit a response.

"But I am two years older than Lydia," Kitty whined. "Why should a married woman prefer her instead of me to be her close friend?"

"Perhaps because I am much more diverting than you are," Lydia retorted. "Ha, ha, ha!"

"I am just as diverting as you are! Lizzy, am I not so? What say you? Do you think Lydia is more entertaining than I am?"

Lizzy rolled her eyes at her father and sipped her tea, saying nothing.

"It is not fair!" Kitty cried once again.

"Well, I will do this much for you," Lydia replied. "If I see Mrs. Forster after church on Sunday, I will ask if I can bring you along when I go to visit her on Wednesday. Now, will that raise your spirits?"

"There is no need to do that," Lizzy interrupted, "for Mrs. Forster is leaving town tomorrow with Mary King. You will not be going to see her on Wednesday, Lydia."

"What?" Lydia cried. "How do you know she is leaving tomorrow? It was only last night that she asked me to come."

Lizzy immediately realized what she had done. She coughed as she tried to swallow her tea, suddenly aware that all eyes rested upon her. Why did I say that? How can I explain my knowledge of Mrs. Forster?

When she said nothing, Mr. Bennet spoke, "Lizzy, do you wish to enlighten us on how you obtained this information?"

"I . . . saw Mr. Wickham while out walking this morning. He told me." She was conscious that her color was rising and quickly dabbed at her mouth with her napkin.

Lydia immediately pounced on this bit of news. "You saw Wickham this morning? Where was he going, Lizzy? Is he coming to see us? And how can Mrs. Forster be leaving when she especially invited me only last night?"

"I don't know, Lydia. Mr. Wickham just said that Mrs. Forster had decided to accompany Miss King on her trip. Now, if you will excuse me, Mamma, I feel a sudden headache and would like to lie down."

"I told you that you shouldn't go walking in such weather," Mrs. Bennet replied, as Lizzy rose from the table and left the room. "But do you ever listen to me? Does anyone ever listen to me?"

Upstairs, Lizzy closed the door to her room and leaned her head against the solid wood. I hate this, she thought. Having to conceal things from my own family! There is something terribly wrong about all of this. She walked to the window and saw that the snow had stopped as quickly as it had begun and that the afternoon sun was now breaking through the clouds. Why did her relationship with Wickham have to be like this? Betrothal should be a joyous, exciting time in a woman's life, a time to share with family and friends . . . not a surreptitious, furtive fact that must be concealed from all but the fiancé and fiancée.

If only she could talk to Jane, she knew her mind would be put to rest. Jane had such a sensible, prudent outlook on life, that she felt certain her sister could reassure her and vanquish her fears. But would not Jane find the entire situation abhorrent? She, who was always so open and honest - how could she sanction Lizzy's entrance into a clandestine arrangement? No, she must not tell Jane however much she longed for her counsel. She could tell no one. That was the bitter truth and it could not be changed. She had made this decision, and now she must live with its consequences.

~ * ~

The next 10 days saw the subsiding of winter weather and the first heraldry of spring. Robins singing and the budding pink and white blossoms dotting the fruit trees were welcomed by everyone in Hertfordshire, but especially by Lizzy. Her genial and hopeful nature could not long lay dormant, especially when the warmer weather called her outside and beckoned her on long walks through the countryside. At times she found herself actually forgetting her engagement to Wickham and when she did recall it, her natural optimism caused her to believe as her father often said, "that all would turn out well."

One afternoon, she and Mary had just returned from a visit to Maria Lucas when Kitty met them outside the front door with news that Lizzy had a letter waiting from Mary King! This was news, indeed, as no one was aware that Lizzy and Miss King had more than a passing acquaintance. Both sisters crowded close to her side as she opened the envelope, with Kitty hoping to read over her shoulder.

"What does it say, Lizzy? Why has Mary King written to you?"

"Give me a moment, Kitty, and I will answer you," Lizzy chided her younger sister, but then the familiarity of the handwriting caused her heart to skip a beat and after opening the letter and seeing the signature, she held her breath and could not say another word.

"What is it?" Mary asked. "You look shocked, Lizzy."

Lizzy shook her head, trying to gain her composure. "It is . . . uh, nothing. I am simply surprised to receive it," she murmured.

"What does she write? Does she wish to be your confidante? Are you to be correspondents now?" Kitty asked again. "Is she having a good visit in Lancashire? Does she plan on returning to Meryton? And what does she say of Mrs. Forster? Lydia will want to know all about her particular friend when she and Mamma return from our Aunt Philips."

"It . . . is a very brief letter," Lizzy replied. "Excuse me, I need to go above stairs and get washed up for dinner." She quickly ran up the stairs, eager to retreat from her sisters' questions.

In her room, Lizzy closed the door and ran to the window seat to peruse in detail the so-called letter from Mary King.

My Adorable Eliza,

Is this not a clever way to correspond? Did I not tell you to leave it to me to find a way to write to you?

I miss you terribly! Be assured that the violence of my affections has not subsided with the absence of your presence. I close my eyes and can still see your beautiful face and form, the remembrance of the scent of your skin drives my passions to excess, and the memory of the taste of your lips is my only relief!

How can I survive until I see you again? Only by hearing from you with the return post. Send your love immediately, my angelic Eliza, and relieve my bereft heart.

Be sure to use Denny's name and post as your return address. For me you can use the address I have afforded Miss King. You need only exchange her name for mine. Is this not an ingenious way to communicate?

Forever yours,

GW

Lizzy's face flamed with the passionate nature of Wickham's words. No one must ever discover this letter! It was disconcerting even to her to read such declarations of feeling. Something about the language reminded her of the common novels her younger sisters favoured. Well, she thought, perhaps he writes so to reassure me of his affections. I am being far too critical, just as I was the last time we were together! With that, she resolved to dismiss all censure of his writing ability and concentrate on his obvious regard for her. She sat at her desk and wrote a quick note in response. It contained no like proclamations of passion, but was full of news of the local gentry and her family. She also gave him her address in Kent in care of the Collins, and reminded him that she would be departing Longbourn in two days' time. When it came time to sign the letter, she found herself somewhat reluctant to use the word "love," and after debating the idea, simply signed it with her initials.

Why am I afraid to say I love him, she wondered. Am I not in love with him? I hardly know.

She had just blotted the ink when Mary knocked at the door and called her to supper. Downstairs Lydia and her mother had returned and as Lizzy joined them at the table, she could see that the entire family with the exception of her father was in an uproar over the latest gossip.

"I tell you, they are engaged!" Lydia cried. "Our Aunt Philips heard it from Col. Forster, himself."

"Who is engaged?" Lizzy asked as she picked up a bowl of potatoes to pass to her sister.

"Wickham!"

Lizzy's face turned whiter than the vegetables she held in her hands.

"He is to marry Mary King!"

Immediately Lizzy dropped the bowl to the floor! Completely unconscious of doing so, she doubled over and grabbed her stomach as though someone had just punched her so hard she could not breathe.

"Lizzy!" cried Mrs. Bennet. "Look what you have done! Kitty, ring for Hill! Oh, look at such a mess you have made!" Hill and another servant ran to clean up the spill while Lydia began to laugh.

"Are you all right, my child?" Mr. Bennet asked his favorite daughter. "You look somewhat pale."

"I am so sorry," Lizzy murmured.

"I knew Wickham was your favorite, Lizzy," Lydia interjected, "but I had no idea this news would unnerve you so!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lydia," Lizzy mumbled, "it was just an accident." She looked around at her family. "Truly, just an accident."

"Well, of course it was an accident," Mrs. Bennet said, sighing. "I just wish we had all had a chance to partake of the potatoes before you dropped them."

"Wickham is only marrying Miss King for her money, you know," Kitty said, obvious disapproval in her voice.

"I wish someone would die and leave me 10,000 pounds," Lydia whined. "Then all the officers would want to marry me, wouldn't they, Mamma?"

"I'm sure they would, my dear, I'm sure they would."

"I feel so sorry for Wickham, having to marry such an ugly, freckled little thing like Mary King just for her money," Lydia said.

"Perhaps we should feel sorry for Miss King," Mr. Bennet stated.

Lizzy looked at him quickly, trying to discern the meaning behind his words.

"Do you not like Mr. Wickham, Papa?" Kitty asked.

"Oh, I like him as well as any other young man around here," he replied, "although I do believe he derives a great amount of satisfaction from repeatedly relating his sad story to one and all."

"But I believe he has truly been harmed by Mr. Darcy's ill treatment," Lizzy said.

"Perhaps," her father answered, "although it may turn out that Mr. Darcy is no worse than any other rich man. In any regard, it will not affect us, as Mr. Wickham is not to marry any of my daughters."

Lizzy lowered her eyes, unable to face any of her family and totally unable to eat another bite. She sipped from her glass of water and then asked to be excused, pleading another headache.

"You are having entirely too many of those, my dear," her father said as she rose from the table. "Mrs. Bennet, see that Mr. Jones visits Lizzy before she leaves for Kent."

"It is only a headache, Mr. Bennet. There is no need to call the doctor."

Lizzy fled the room as her parents began to debate the wisdom or folly of summoning the local practitioner. In her room, she grabbed a washcloth, dampened it in cool water and held it to her throat, hoping to restrain the sick feeling in her stomach from manifesting itself visibly. How could this be? How could Wickham engage himself to another woman? She began to pace back and forth, her temper rising as her hopes for happiness fell. She unlocked her desk and retrieved his letter, rereading his flowery displays of affection. How false! How patently false he is to write such words to me and attach himself to another! Again and again she read the letter, searching for some hint of infidelity, but there was nothing there to indicate such. Mrs. Philips must be mistaken. That could be the only explanation. She must talk to her, but no, if she did, that would only arouse suspicion. What could she do? Over and over Lizzy debated what action she must take and, at last, decided to write Wickham and confront him.

She hastily shredded her previous letter, throwing it into the fire, and began again, this time writing speedily, unconcerned with including any felicitations of greeting, acknowledgment of his feelings or otherwise; informing him only of what she had just learned and demanding to know if it were true! As she finished with an abrupt signature of nothing more than EB, she grabbed her bonnet and reached for her spencer, intending to walk to Meryton immediately to post the letter. If she had not at that very moment observed the setting sun outside her window, she would have run down the stairs and found herself trying to explain her precipitate actions to her family. Fortunately, reason did prevail and she realized the letter would have to wait to be posted on the morrow.

It proved to be another very long night.

~ * ~

Chapter 5

Two days later Elizabeth joined Sir William Lucas and Maria on their way to Kent. She had remained quiet and morose since learning of Wickham's betrayal, avoiding her family as much as possible so as not to arouse their suspicions with her downcast countenance and poor spirits, but when her father called her to his side to kiss her a fond good-bye, she found herself on the brink of revealing her emotions. Why could she not find a man as good as her father, she wondered. She thought that she had, but now she did not know what to think.

The journey progressed easily enough for it was only 50 miles of good road on which to travel. Uniting with Charlotte once again pleased Lizzy even though she could see that marriage had not altered her cousin's affected, pretentious personality. Mr. Collins was as foolish as ever and never more so than in the presence of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Lizzy endured the tiresome audiences with the great lady and found herself amused at the thought of Mr. Darcy pledged in marriage to her sickly, colorless daughter. She did enjoy the verdant grounds of Lady Catherine's estate, though, and she made much use of Rosings, walking and exploring the many twists and turns throughout the park. Unfortunately, much of her time spent walking, however, was clouded by the fears besetting her concerning her secret engagement. She had resided in Kent three weeks and still, no word from Wickham.

Fearing perchance that her earlier letter had gone astray, she wrote him again, this time using a calmer and more pleasing means of address, but still insisting upon an answer to the alarming news she had heard. Another week elapsed and it proved to be almost Easter before she received the long-awaited reply.

"Lizzy, here is a letter for you from Mary King!" Charlotte announced that morning. "I did not know you and she were on such familiar terms."

"Mary King?" Maria cried. "Oh, Lizzy, do open it and tell us when her marriage to Mr. Wickham is to take place!"

Lizzy paled at the thought and her hand trembled as she reached for the missive. "We are very little acquainted," she murmured, "and she may not think me a close enough friend to relate such a confidentiality."

"But it's not confidential," Maria said. "Colonel Forster, himself, is the one who told my father. Why, all of Meryton was abuzz with the news before we left."

Charlotte looked at Lizzy intently, as though she could see that something was not quite what it should be. "Maria, it is not polite to quiz Elizabeth about her private correspondence. Come, let us give her some time to read her letter." She took her younger sister in hand and firmly led her into the parlor, affording Lizzy an opportunity to retreat to her room. There she opened the letter with trembling hands and felt tears spring to her eyes as she read.

Eliza,

How can you doubt me so? I know not what rumor has caused you to accuse me of such unfaithfulness, but be assured that rumors abound wherever unmarried people reside.

I expected more of you than to question me in this manner. Do you not trust that I am doing all in my power to secure our future?

Regretfully,
GW

Lizzy closed her eyes in relief and allowed a deep sigh to escape her breast. It was not true! It was all a mistake, a silly rumor. Wickham was faithful. He was the man she believed him to be. "Oh, dear God," she said aloud, "how could I have listened to such a falsehood?"

A knock at the door startled her and she hastily tucked the letter into a drawer before responding. Charlotte again searched her friend's face as she stood before her, but asked nothing more than if she would like to accompany Maria and her on their morning walk. Lizzy readily agreed and the three women soon found themselves walking up the lane, admiring the early spring wildflowers dotting the landscape. Even though Charlotte disapproved, Maria once again asked Lizzy about the contents of her letter from Mary King, to which Lizzy simply said it contained no news of any engagement between Miss King and Mr. Wickham, so she was at a loss as to whether it were truth or rumor. Maria began to debate this again, but her sister silenced her and Lizzy quickly changed the subject to the beauty of the woods and groves around Rosings, stating that she could see why Charlotte enjoyed living there.

They had just rounded a bend in the path, when Mr. Collins ran up the walk behind them, gasping for air and calling them to return to Hunsford at once because they were about to be paid the greatest honor of having Mr. Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the youngest son of the Earl of Matlock, call on them. He bade them make haste and Maria grabbed her bonnet and immediately ran back to the house with him, while Charlotte and Elizabeth made their way back in a more leisurely manner. When Charlotte suggested that the visit must be due to Lizzy because Mr. Darcy would never call on her, Lizzy was at a loss to explain it. She disputed her friend's words, vowing that surely could not be the case, because Mr. Darcy did not care for her at all.

But the next few weeks proved Lizzy to be wrong.

Not only did Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy call often at Hunsford, they prevailed upon their aunt to invite Mr. and Mrs. Collins and their guests even more frequently to the great house than previously. Lizzy was persuaded to play and sing for them and even though Lady Catherine disparaged her ability, it was obvious that both gentlemen enjoyed it. More than once Lizzy came across Mr. Darcy while out walking the groves at Rosings, and he even stopped at Hunsford one day and visited with her alone, but she supposed that to have happened by accident, as he had no way of knowing that her cousins and Maria had gone into town.

On his part, Darcy was undergoing a tremendous struggle within his heart. Finding Elizabeth at Kent had surprised him, for after whisking Bingley off to London and there supposedly convincing him that he must not align himself with the Bennet family, Darcy had also determined to put Elizabeth out of his mind and never see her again. Now, he found himself in her company almost daily and if a day went by without a visit, his spirits plummeted. He earnestly desired to be in her presence. She brought a light into his life like no other, a light from which he had no desire to ever leave. His internal debates over the unsuitability of a possible marriage between them kept him awake far into the night, and when he did sleep, he found his dreams consumed by her face and figure, the way she laughed, the bounce of her curls, the turn of her countenance. Although he fought valiantly against such feelings, his defenses against such a match began to crumble like the walls of Jericho.

In her presence Darcy was still taciturn and detached in his manner, his conversation somewhat stilted and laconic, but he was never unpleasant nor insulting. Lizzy had felt somewhat ill at ease upon first seeing him when she remembered the circumstances of their last meeting in Meryton. His words at the Mistletoe Ball still rang in her ears, "when I kiss you," and at times she caught his brooding stare upon her reflecting the same intense, unfathomable look she had seen throughout his stay in Hertfordshire. However, as he made no reference to their previous meeting and refrained from any other such familiarity, she had begun to relax somewhat in his presence and she did not resent being around him, especially when he was accompanied by his pleasant and good-natured cousin; that is, until one afternoon Colonel Fitzwilliam revealed to Lizzy that Darcy had recently been the means of preventing his good friend Bingley from entering a most imprudent match, a match that Lizzy realized would have occurred between Bingley and her dearest sister, Jane.

This news immediately caused Lizzy much anguish. She began to silently rage, the impact of which caused her to beg off from attending dinner at Rosings that night, pleading another of her headaches. She knew all too well that the pain in her head was unexpressed anger - anger just waiting to be unleashed at the sight of Darcy. It did not have long to wait.

That very evening Darcy called on Elizabeth and did the unthinkable - he declared his ardent admiration and love for her and begged her to relieve his suffering by consenting to be his wife! If he had only concluded his proposal with those words, he might possibly have received a firm but polite refusal, but when he proceeded to enumerate all of the reasons why the attachment between their families was such an inferior one, such a degradation, and that he was marrying her against all reason and his own better judgment, Lizzy's rage boiled over into a cold but deadly refusal. She not only accused him of causing the ruin of Mr. Wickham in direct disregard of his own father's wishes, but also being the means of destroying the happiness of her most beloved sister. Many more distressing words were spoken on both their parts, and their conversation ended when Darcy accused Elizabeth of incivility and Elizabeth countered that Darcy behaved as less than a gentleman!

After a tortured night in which neither party slept much and during which two letters were written, one by Lizzy to Wickham and the other by Darcy to Elizabeth, the next morning found both of them wishing to escape the confines of the separate houses in which they dwelt and, consequently, not having to abide conversations of the families with which they resided.

"Lizzy, you do look pale," Charlotte remonstrated upon seeing her friend enter the breakfast room. "Won't you have some breakfast with us. It will do you good."

"Yes," Mr. Collins agreed, his cheeks bulging with ham and eggs, "and you must partake of the spring tonic Lady Catherine has so graciously bestowed upon us. Her apothecary has just made it up for her and she insists that it is the very thing to relieve the winter heaviness and prepare the constitution for nature's bountiful springtime! She has purchased enough for herself, Miss de Bourgh, Miss Jenkinson, and, in fact, all of her servants, and has done us the greatest honor in the county by including us among those to receive its benefits. Come, cousin, let me give you a spoonful."

"All of you are taking it?" Lizzy asked, signaling Charlotte that she was having a difficult time refraining from laughter.

"Oh, yes," Maria answered. "I've already taken three large doses. Even though it does taste as horrid as quinine, if you hold your nose and quickly take a spoonful of applesauce afterwards, you can get it down."

Charlotte also nodded, indicating that she, too, had partaken of it; however, she did roll her eyes and Lizzy had to turn away to keep from laughing out loud.

"Actually, cousin, I think I will refrain for the present and I truly am not hungry. I believe I will go out for a walk. Fresh air and exercise may be just what I need, for I have stayed in too long and the grounds around Rosings are so beautiful at this time of year."

As she walked out the door, Mr. Collins could not keep from adding one last admonition. "We will save some tonic for you, cousin. Never fear, it will be here when you return."

Outside Lizzy started up the lane to Hunsford Village to post her letter to Wickham, a letter in which she apologized for doubting him and wrote as many conciliatory phrases as she could think of to mend the pain her suspicions may have caused him. For some reason, though, she failed to mention the occurrence of Darcy's proposal. When she thought about her reason for this omission, she justified it as not wishing to add to Wickham's anger toward Darcy, although she then wondered if that were truly the reason.

Observing that it would still be an hour or more before the postal office opened, Lizzy decided to detour through Rosings' lush, green park. Her natural buoyant personality soon could not be contained in such beautiful surroundings and she found herself actually running, reveling in the cool breeze blowing her bonnet down her back, held only by the ribbon tied around her neck. She slowed as she reached a huge oak tree and started to rest against it when she saw the familiar, tall figure of Mr. Darcy standing directly beyond it on the other side. His back was toward her, his strong broad shoulders clothed in a long, gray coat.

Hoping he had not seen her, she quickly began to retreat, but when the sharp crack of a twig sounded beneath her foot, Darcy turned and saw her.

"Miss Bennet," he called out; she stopped and reluctantly turned to face him.

"Mr. Darcy," she murmured, returning his look without flinching.

"I have been walking the grove some time in the hope of meeting you here. Will you do me the honor of reading this letter?"

Lizzy stepped back as he held out the folded, white pages with her name written across the outside. "I . . . I cannot," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I cannot accept a letter from you, Mr. Darcy. It . . . it would not be proper."

"Miss Bennet, do not be afraid that this letter contains any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you."

Lizzy coloured, hearing not only the reproach in his voice but for the first time a hint of pain her words may have caused him. "I have no such fears, sir, but . . . there is no attachment between us. It would not be right for me to accept any type of written correspondence from you."

"I assure you, Miss Bennet, there is nothing improper in this letter, but I must insist that you read it."

"I will not, sir." Lizzy turned and began to walk away, but Darcy would not have it. He stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

"Do you have so little regard for me that you will not even read my explanation?"

"Your explanation?"

"Of what you accused me last night, Miss Bennet. That is what I have written in this note. Will you not read it? That is all I ask. Read it and then burn it. No one will ever know that it passed between us."

Lizzy was suddenly conscious of the deep urgency not only in his voice, but in his eyes. This man wanted her to understand him and, not discerning why, she felt herself drawn to respond to his need. She lifted her hand halfway, almost ready to take the letter when with her other hand she felt the outline of another letter inside the pocket of her dress, and consequently, her obligation to Wickham. She dropped her hand and lowered her head. "Mr. Darcy, I . . . I cannot accept any letter from you or any other man. It would not be proper and would constitute a lack of fidelity on my part."

"Fidelity? I do not understand." Darcy's voice was incredulous, and then a certain knowing look descended over his face. "Are you saying you are attached to another, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy took a deep breath and nodded ever so slightly.

"But why have you not said so before? Why has no one spoken of it during our entire stay in Kent?"

"It is not common knowledge as of yet, Mr. Darcy, and may not be for some time; I would beg for your discretion." Lizzy looked extremely uncomfortable, unable to meet his eyes, and he could not help but feel her anguish.

"Of course," he murmured, "you may be assured of my secrecy." He looked away as though he would leave, but then anger flashed in his eyes. "I know not why your situation must be kept hidden, Miss Bennet, but any man who would ask you to do so is a fool and he is not worthy of you."

With that, he bowed, turned and walked away, leaving Lizzy feeling suddenly quite faint; she sank down upon a tree stump and found it hard to catch her breath.

What have I done, Lizzy wondered. How could she have chosen Mr. Darcy, of all people, with whom to reveal her secret engagement? A slip to Jane, her closest confidant, or even Charlotte, a life-long friend, might have been excused, but to tell Darcy, a man whom she professed to dislike exceedingly? Of what could she have been thinking?

"Thinking had nothing to do with it," she said aloud.

I saw the anguish in his eyes and I wanted to relieve it. I did not want him to suffer any more on my account. But why? Had his arrogance not caused her to suffer, not to speak of the indescribable heartbreak he had brought upon her sister? Why should she care how her words affected him now? Her heart and her mind were in a jumble and she did not know what to think - about Darcy or herself.

She went over his unfortunate proposal in her mind once again and, remembering the slurs directed at her family, she felt herself growing angry anew; but then his image appeared before her as he said, "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you." The shock of such a statement could not mask the tenderness in his eyes nor the timbre of his voice when he spoke those words. Of course, all of the insults that had followed erased any goodwill his opening statement had evoked. Still, Lizzy could not cancel that look from her memory; a familiar warmth rose from deep within her, the same warmth she had experienced at the Mistletoe Ball when Darcy leaned toward her with a possible kiss. She recalled again the anguish she had just heard in the tone of his voice as he urged her to read his letter. His feelings for her would not be denied. Just as he had said, they were natural and just, even though unwelcome . . . but what was she feeling?

At length, Lizzy arose, thinking I cannot set it right. I will neither think on it nor on him any longer! She walked into Hunsford Village and mailed the letter to Wickham. Darcy's words, however, reappeared once more as she saw Wickham's name written by her hand. "I know not why your situation must be kept hidden, Miss Bennet, but any man who would ask you to do so is a fool and he is not worthy of you."

She shook her head as though she could banish the sound of his voice, and made her way back to her cousin's house. After all, if it were not for Darcy, she and Wickham would not have to be secretly engaged. Wickham would have his living and they could be married quickly. He is worthy of me, she thought, and it is your fault, Mr. Darcy, that he and I are even in this situation!

~ * ~

Inside Hunsford parsonage, Lizzy was somewhat curious to observe a definite lack of activity. Neither Mr. or Mrs. Collins nor Maria were in the parlor; the maid had not received her at the door to assist her in removing her bonnet and spencer, and the general quiet of the house was unusual for mid-day. She could smell no food cooking for the noon meal nor was the table set in preparation.

"Charlotte?" she called out, "Maria? Is anyone home?" When she heard no answer and had canvassed the public rooms, she even ventured into the kitchen, but not finding the cook or seeing even the beginnings of a meal being prepared, Lizzy began to grow concerned. While climbing the stairs, at last she heard a sound, but it was certainly not inviting. Deep moans emanated from all three bedrooms of her cousin, Charlotte, and Maria, followed by a horrendous noise that could only be that of violent retching!

Lizzy knocked lightly at Charlotte's door, and hearing no other response than that previously mentioned, she pushed the door open and looked in. Her friend lay prostrate on the bed, her face pale and sickly, and her expression contorted as she held her stomach and turned from side to side.

"Charlotte! What has happened?"

"Oh, Lizzy," Charlotte cried, tears spilling down her cheeks, "I am so ill, so very, very ill!"

With that, she grabbed the chamber pot and vomited relentlessly. Lizzy ran to ring the bell for help and then poured water into a basin and soaked a cloth in it before blotting Charlotte's face.

"Here, my dear, hold this cool cloth at your throat. It may help lessen the nausea. How did you become so sick with such haste?"

"I'm not sure. It happened right after breakfast." She moaned again, clutching her stomach and pulling her legs up as she turned on her side.

"Where is that maid?" Lizzy fretted. "Try to stay quiet, dear, and I will find Mr. Collins and have him summon the doctor."

"He cannot," Charlotte moaned.

"He cannot? Why?"

"He is as sick as I am and so is Maria."

"All three of you?" Lizzy could not believe it. "Well, I will find the maid and send her."

"She is sick, too, and Cook and Dawkins, the manservant. I fear we are all poisoned."

"Poisoned? How? Was it the ham, the eggs?"

"The tonic," Charlotte managed to whisper before she reached for the chamber pot once more, retching until Lizzy feared that she would faint. As she held her friend's forehead and then helped her to lay back on the pillow, she found it difficult to keep from laughing.

"Charlotte! Are you saying Lady Catherine's spring tonic has poisoned your entire household?"

Charlotte nodded, the pain of her cramping stomach causing her eyes to glaze. Lizzy was immediately ashamed at even the thought of laughter on her part when her friend was so obviously ill.

"Please, Lizzy, go and check on Maria and Mr. Collins. He looked absolutely green an hour ago."

Actually, pea green was the particular shade Lizzy would have used to describe Mr. Collins' color. Although she was embarrassed to have to invade his bed chamber, there was no one else to assist him and she found herself not only emptying his, Maria's and Charlotte's chamber pots, but running from one to the other all afternoon, refilling their basins with pitchers of cool water. She had no time to even check on the servants; it was obvious that the household was in dire need of assistance. The local doctor must be summoned, but certainly not Lady Catherine's personal apothecary - his concoction had done enough damage.

By sundown, Maria and Charlotte had fallen into an exhausted sleep but Mr. Collins continued in his misery. Lizzy suspected it was because he had taken extra amounts of the tonic in order to impress Lady Catherine with how prodigiously he heeded her instructions. The servants also had been seen to, and as Mr. Collins was the only one of her patients who was still awake and still exceedingly sick and Lizzy's sympathy toward him was somewhat lacking, she determined to leave the house in search of help. She disliked having to walk into the village this late in the day, but she hoped to return with someone who could assist her in nursing or at least provide cooking and household help. Where to look was the puzzle; the inn would be all that was open after nightfall.

The sunset had almost vanished as she neared the inn when she heard the sound of horse and rider coming behind her. She kept her head down, not wishing to draw attention to herself, but it was to no avail as a comely young woman walking alone could not be missed. Sure enough, the horse stopped and Lizzy squared her shoulders and determined to meet the rider with courage. How surprised and relieved she was to see that it was Colonel Fitzwilliam!

"Miss Bennet!"

Lizzy curtsied, the consolation of his presence evident in her eyes. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, you are a welcome sight!"

"I have just returned from a visit to a friend in a nearby county, where I have been since early this morning, but whatever are you doing out alone at this time of evening?"

"I am in great need of assistance at Hunsford cottage."

He dismounted at once. "What is it? Tell me how I can help!"

"My cousin and his wife, indeed, the entire household has been struck with illness of the greatest severity. They require the services not only of a doctor, but also temporary servants."

"Do you mean to say that their servants are also ill?"

When Lizzy nodded, the colonel looked aghast. "But what has happened to strike the entire house with such an epidemic and how have you escaped?"

Lizzy looked away, chewed her lip, and wondered how she could put this delicately.

"Miss Bennet?" he asked again.

"I am afraid, Colonel, that Lady Catherine's spring tonic has poisoned them."

"They took that awful tonic?" He looked dumbfounded, but then began to press his lips together as though to keep from laughing. When Lizzy saw his shoulders begin to shake, she, too, could not refrain from giving way to mirth. She nodded in agreement and then both of them burst out laughing.

"Darcy and I took one whiff of that blasted tonic and would have none of it! I can't believe she persuaded your family to partake of it."

"My cousin is exceedingly solicitous of Lady Catherine's direction. I am sure he pushed it on his family and servants."

"But not you?" he smiled.

"I am not so easily persuaded," Lizzy replied.

"For that I am highly thankful. But come, let me take you to Rosings. From there we can send one of the servants to fetch the doctor and my aunt can surely lend you a maid and cook, especially since she caused this mayhem."

"I would not want to burden Lady Catherine," Lizzy began.

"I believe she is well able to afford such burden. Come, I insist. Let us walk together." With one hand he held his horse's reigns, while he offered his arm to Lizzy, who was quite gratified to accept it, for night was upon them by this time. At sight of the mansion, she dreaded facing Darcy again and hoped that somehow she might evade him, but it was not to be, for he opened the door for them.

Both Lizzy and the colonel were surprised to see him instead of the butler, but even more so when they saw how he was dressed. His coat had been discarded, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he was breathing hard when he let them in.

"Darcy, are you all right? I've rarely seen you in this attire outside your bed chamber," Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed.

Darcy appeared to not even notice his appearance. "Fitzwilliam! Thank God you are here at last!" Then, becoming aware of Lizzy for the first time, he bowed slightly and murmured, "Miss Bennet."

"What is it?" the colonel asked at once. "What has happened?"

"It's that damned tonic!" Darcy cried. "Lady Catherine has dosed everyone in the house, and I do mean everyone, servants included, and they are all sicker than dogs! You can't believe what I've been through this afternoon."

Colonel Fitzwilliam began to laugh. "Well, I may not believe it, but Miss Bennet certainly will."

"What?" Darcy demanded.

"Everyone at Hunsford cottage took the tonic, also," Lizzy said, "with the exception of myself."

"That is why she is here," Colonel Fitzwilliam explained. "I found her on the way to the village, looking for help."

"Tonight?" Darcy demanded. "You were walking into the village at night? That is not wise, Miss Bennet. You should not be out alone at night." His concern for her was evident.

"She hardly had a choice, Darce," the colonel interrupted. "Miss Bennet needs help. There is no one not sick at Mr. Collins' house, including the servants."

"Well, Miss Bennet cannot walk out again without escort. This may be a rural village, but it is entirely too dangerous with highwaymen and ruffians about the country. You must promise me you will not do so again," he declared.

Lizzy said nothing, but she was not unmindful of the tone of distress in Darcy's voice. There was no mistaking his desire to protect her.

"Fitzwilliam, ride into the village and summon the doctor."

Lizzy added, "Please do not bring the apothecary, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I implore you!"

"By all means, I will not!" the colonel answered. "He's the reason we're in this mess! Where does the doctor live, Darcy?"

"Behind the church beside the cottage of Mrs. Smallwood's son, and while you're there, see if her son and his wife will come. They can assist Miss Bennet."

"Mrs. Smallwood?"

"The housekeeper, Fitz," Darcy explained, frowning at his cousin's lack of memory. "She's been here forever."

"Oh yes, I guess I had forgotten her name. All I ever hear is Aunt Catherine barking, 'Mrs. S, do this and Mrs. S, do that!'"

"And then go to Marcus' house and employ his granddaughter and her family for Rosings."

"Mr. Darcy," Lizzy interrupted. "Will you not need all of them to assist you? Rosings is a vast house to maintain."

"Marcus is my aunt's butler and his daughter has at least four nearly grown youths who will be glad for the employment. Yes, eventually we will need more than that, but it will do for tonight. After what I've been through this afternoon, even two extra hands would be more than welcome!"

"I understand," Lizzy agreed. "The same situation exists at Hunsford cottage."

Colonel Fitzwilliam donned his hat and with a quick good-bye, left the house on his mission. Lizzy started toward the door, also, intending to return to her cousin's house, but Darcy caused her to delay.

"Miss Bennet, I would not have you walk back in the dark. Wait one moment and I will escort you."

Just then a loud moan drifted down from above stairs, and its voice could be none other than that of Lady Catherine.

"Oh no, she's at it again," Darcy muttered, running his hand through his hair. "Wait here, please, I must go to her." At the sound of an additional female voice crying, he added, "And there goes Anne, also. I'm afraid she is the sickest by far. There's no telling how many doses of that blasted tonic my aunt forced her to take."

As he started toward the stairs, Lizzy called out, "Mr. Darcy!"

He turned to listen and she continued, "When I left my cousin's house, Mrs. Collins and Maria, as well as the maid and cook had all fallen asleep, but Mr. Collins was still quite ill and in need of assistance. I confess I barely took the time to look in on the manservant, as it was somewhat embarrassing to invade his room."

"I can well understand that," Darcy replied. "I can say the same for attending my aunt and cousin, as well as the female servants."

"Would it . . . do I ask too much . . ." Lizzy stammered.

"You would like for me to see to Mr. Collins and his servant?" Darcy asked.

Lizzy was surprised at how easily he understood her unspoken request. "I would be most grateful, Mr. Darcy, and in return I could attend Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh while you are gone."

"A sensible solution," Darcy agreed, not bothering to put on his coat or hat as he headed for the door. "You will find Lady Catherine's room on the left and my cousin is two doors down, although from the sounds I hear, I doubt that you will have any difficulty locating them."

As Darcy closed the door behind him, Lizzy took a deep breath and walked up the stairs, very unsure of how welcome she would be in the eyes of Lady Catherine, but determined to do the best she could. The old woman may not wish for her presence, but this was one time Lady Catherine had no other choice.

chapter 6

Four hours later, Lizzy descended the stairs at Rosings and sank down on the bottom rung. Her legs may have been young and strong, but by that time she hoped never to see another staircase again. Up and down, up and down she had run, carrying fresh water, towels, and washed out chamber pots. Colonel Fitzwilliam had returned with the doctor some time ago and he had, of course, immediately attended Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh, along with Mrs. Jenkinson, and then followed the colonel to see to the ill servants. From there, both men had left for Hunsford cottage and at last, the entire house had quieted. The women above stairs appeared to finally be asleep, and Lizzy was now so tired that even her bones ached. She thought about rising from the stairs and moving into the parlor to more comfortable seating, but she was simply too tired. Leaning her head against the railing, she sighed and closed her eyes and less than a moment later, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

What a picture Darcy found, as he entered Rosings with four new servants in tow. Hearing nothing but silence from above, he quickly and quietly sent them to check on the servants who were ill, while he walked toward Elizabeth. Her flushed cheeks and long strands of escaping curls would have caused her shame in her untidy appearance if she had been awake, but Darcy found her entire appearance enchanting. He stood there for some time simply watching her, but at last he softly called her name. When she made no answer, he said it again a little stronger, but to no avail. Gently touching her hand did not awaken her either, so quietly slipping her arms around his neck, Darcy gathered her into his arms and carried her to the sofa in the library.

Darcy employed no haste in his walk. Even though his body also was bone tired, he was unaware of it, his attention totally caught up in the way Elizabeth felt in his arms. Her body was so soft, so light, so incredibly good to feel in his embrace, that he felt no need to relieve himself from holding her. She had moaned slightly when he first picked her up, but did not awaken, simply clung to his neck and laid her head against his chest.

Oh, Elizabeth, he thought, why could you not love me?

As he bent to place her on the divan, their faces were within kissing distance and it was all that he could do not to brush his lips against hers. They are perfectly formed, he thought, perfectly pink, perfectly soft . . . Just then, her mouth parted and he inhaled quickly, fighting to keep breathing and to refrain from following through on the impulse for which he yearned. One kiss, he thought, could I not have just one kiss from this woman who is driving me to distraction and who will never be mine? As Darcy debated with temptation, Lizzy began to moan once more; she turned her head from side to side and then began to talk in her sleep, "Please sir, you must not . . . no, no, Mr. Wi . . . ."

As though she had doused him with a pitcher of cold water, Darcy immediately jerked back to reality! What had she said? Was she rebuffing him again even in her sleep? Did she dislike him to such an extent that he caused her nightmares? Her words in response to his unfortunate proposal rang in his ears . . . "if you had behaved in a more gentleman like behavior." He placed her upon the sofa and, seeing that she still did not awaken, removed her shoes, and then covered her gently with a rug. He stirred the fire and added another log and then simply stood leaning against the mantel, one foot upon the raised hearth, and one hand at his mouth. He could not keep his eyes from Elizabeth, but he knew she would never want his heart.

How could she have refused him, he wondered over and over. He knew he was considered an excellent match among the ton in London, for mothers were continually promenading their marriageable daughters before him, he was wealthy, and he had declared his love for her. Any sensible young woman in her position would have said yes before he had finished his declaration - but not Elizabeth Bennet. The woman he loved seemed more concerned with his character than the attraction of his money or his position in society or even his affection. What were those words with which she had stung him so - your arrogance, your pride, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others? Yes, Darcy acknowledged that he was a proud man, but he had much to be proud of and yes, he had professed disdain for certain members of her family, but what prudent man would not disapprove of the wanton behavior of her younger sisters or the vulgarity of her mother? Had he appeared arrogant in his consideration of the difference in their position, the unfortunate connections of her mother's family who, if he had formed an alliance with her, might lower him in the eyes of society? Had he been truly selfish? He did not think so, for had he not told her he would forego all these rational objections to marry her? Obviously she did not share his opinion of the noble leniency he was offering. How could I have gotten myself into such a muddle? To think I fell in love with the one woman in this world who does not want me, a woman who has already given her heart to another!

Darcy mulled these thoughts continuously until their weight combined with the stress of such a long, eventful day culminated in a deep weariness. He left the fireplace and sat down in a large, high backed chair nearby, leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. This is where Colonel Fitzwilliam found him less than half an hour later.

"Darcy, there you are! Did you not hear me calling?"

Darcy sat up, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "What? I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam, I . . ."

"Never mind, man. I can imagine what a day you've had. I've brought the doctor back with me. May I summon him?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam then observed Lizzy asleep on the couch and lowered his voice. "What's this? Is Miss Bennet ill, too?"

"No, no," Darcy answered quickly. "At least I do not think so. I found her asleep on the stairs. I fear she is simply exhausted. I tried to awaken her but without success, so I brought her in here."

"Do you not think we should take her back to the parsonage?"

"I believe we should leave her as she is, for waking her would only add to her fatigue. Did you say the doctor has returned with you? Why did you not take him home?"

"He feels it would be unwise for him to leave. In fact, he desires to talk to you about the entire situation."

"Then summon him at once," Darcy replied, as he rose, running his fingers through his hair.

The doctor entered, was seated at the library table on the other side of the room, and given a glass of spirits; he then proceeded to give his opinion of his patients. They were very ill and he did not feel at all safe in leaving any of them, especially Mrs. Collins. The fact that they were at two different establishments only added to his alarm; the ideal solution would be to have all of them housed under the same roof so that he could attend the sickest at the moment they needed him.

"Are you saying you want to move some of them?" Darcy asked.

"Precisely," the doctor answered, "and since Rosings Park is by far the largest and most adequate place, I suggest that we bed Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Miss Lucas, and their three servants here."

Darcy offered no argument, stating that there were plenty of empty bedchambers available, so he and the two men went at once to secure the assistance of their temporary servants in completing the task. Before leaving the mansion, both the doctor and the colonel followed Darcy's example, shucking their coats and rolling up their sleeves, for the chore of moving six very ill people subject to violent upheavals at any moment was not an assignment for the faint-hearted nor the well-dressed.

They debated over using one or more of Lady Catherine's carriages for transport (with the exception of the Barouche Box, of course), but finally decided to employ only the oldest (the inside of which was well padded with old rugs) for moving the two ladies, Mrs. Collins and her younger sister. Two of the new female servants quickly packed small bags with necessary gowns and toiletries from the ladies' rooms and then, after assisting them into their robes, wrapped them in blankets and called for the gentlemen to carry them downstairs. Mr. Darcy, himself, carried Mrs. Collins and she was extremely embarrassed that he was called upon to be of such service. Once the women were settled above stairs at Rosings and under the watchful eye of one of the new maids, the gentlemen returned to the parsonage.

It was decided that the vicar's three servants could all be moved in the back of Mr. Collins' own cart. Lined with fresh hay and covered with more rugs, the cook, maid, and manservant made the trip with only two incidents of misfortune. That left only Mr. Collins to be conveyed, a task both Darcy and Fitzwilliam dreaded. He was still retching in a most violent manner every 15 minutes or so, and between times whenever either of Lady Catherine's nephews entered his room, the vicar insisted on bobbing up and down in such an obsequious bowing motion, that he would grow quite seasick and become ill all over again.

The removal, itself, of his person proved to be an experience neither Mr. Darcy nor Colonel Fitzwilliam nor either of the menservants who assisted them ever wish to recall again!

~ * ~

At last, in the early morning hours Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to the library. Elizabeth had not moved and still lay sleeping on the sofa. Darcy poured a drink for his cousin and himself as they both stood gazing upon the lady. In hushed tones they debated the wisdom of moving her to a bedroom, but once again, Darcy felt it best not to disturb her.

"She is handsome, is she not?" the colonel said softly. "It is a shame that she has no fortune."

Darcy frowned at his cousin's interest. "Do not forget her family connections."

"I could tolerate the family if only I was not a younger son in need of a rich wife. Believe me, I could put up with a lot to be married to such a woman."

Darcy's eyes narrowed when he saw the way he looked at Elizabeth. "Well, you will not marry her," he said harshly, "so there is no need to even think about it."

In response to his tone, Colonel Fitzwilliam shot him a quick glance and then gave a short laugh. "There's no harm in looking, Darce."

"You had better retire, Fitzwilliam, for it will soon be dawn and our services will be needed again within a few hours."

The colonel agreed, set his glass upon the table, and began walking toward the door. "Are you not coming, cousin?"

"Soon," Darcy replied, pouring himself another glass.

"Well, good-night, then."

Darcy nodded and the colonel left the library. Once he was gone, Darcy stirred the fire once more and then pulled the rug over Elizabeth's shoulders. She stirred a little at the movement, but did not open her eyes. He resumed his previous seat and stretched out his long legs, leaning his head against the high back of the chair. He stared at Lizzy until his eyelids would no longer cooperate and before long, he slept the sleep of the weary.

~ * ~

Sunlight filtering through the heavy drapes awakened Lizzy the next morning. She blinked and turned slightly and then lifting her head, she stared at her surroundings. Where am I, she wondered, and how did I get on this sofa? She sat up slowly, pushing back the rug and puzzling as to who had covered her and then she saw him - Mr. Darcy asleep in the large chair opposite her. Mr. Darcy! she thought, how long has he been here?

Looking around, she saw that she was in the library at Rosings and immediately the previous night's activities flooded her mind. She threw the rug aside and felt for her shoes with her feet, but not finding them, she leaned over to look beneath the couch. They were nowhere to be seen. Glancing quickly at Darcy to make certain he still slept, Lizzy dropped to her knees and peered farther under the furniture, but still no shoes appeared. Where can they be, she wondered and began crawling on her hands and knees, continuing to try to make them out within the darkness beneath the sofa.

Darcy awakened, blinked several times and then sat up, stretching his back to remove the kinks from sleeping in an upright position all night. Focusing his eyes, he blinked again, surprised at the sight of Elizabeth on hands and knees, her head resting almost on the floor and her bottom sticking up in the air in the most fetching manner. Definitely enjoying the view, but endeavoring heroically to suppress the smile which threatened to cover his face, he said quietly, "Good morning, Miss Bennet."

Lizzy gasped audibly, realizing the awkward position she was in. She quickly rose to a kneeling position, and looking back over her shoulder, she briefly met his eyes and murmured, "Good morning."

"Are you searching for something?"

"My . . . shoes . . . I am looking for my shoes."

With one quick movement, Darcy rose, leaned forward, scooped up the shoes at the end of the sofa next to his chair and handed them to her. "Allow me," he said, then offered his hand and assisted her to stand.

"Thank you," Lizzy murmured, as she sat down. After slipping on the left shoe, she thought of her appearance and reached for her hair, ashamed to realize that most of her curls were now cascading down her back. "I . . . that is, you have me at a disadvantage, sir. I do not know how I came to be in this room."

"I carried you," he said simply.

Lizzy's eyes widened and she swallowed. "Carried me . . . you?"

"Yes, I found you asleep on the stairs and although I tried to awaken you, it was impossible. I thought you might find the sofa more comfortable than Lady Catherine's stairs."

"I am embarrassed," she mumbled, suddenly conscious of the fact that he must have been the one to remove her shoes and cover her with the rug. "I should never have imposed in such a way, sir."

Darcy dismissed her apology and began adding logs to the fire, as only a few embers remained. With his back turned, Lizzy completed putting on her shoes and stood up, attempting to smooth her dress and hair. What a sight I must look, she thought.

"How are Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh?" she asked.

"I hardly know. The last time I looked in on them they were resting, but that was several hours ago."

"I should go see, then," she said, moving toward the door.

"I believe you may take some time for yourself, Miss Bennet. Did you eat last night? Surely you must be in need of nourishment."

"That can wait," Lizzy said quickly, "for I must soon return to Hunsford and check on my cousin and his family."

"There is no need," Darcy replied, and then went on to explain the doctor's request for their removal to Rosings and the fact that it had all been accomplished during the night. "The doctor is also still here, Miss Bennet, and with the temporary servants Fitzwilliam employed, there is no need for you to begin running up and down stairs again, at least not until you have had breakfast, yourself."

To say that Lizzy was surprised at this turn of events was to put it mildly and she thought with amusement what a tale Mr. Collins would now have to tell - he had spent the entire night under Lady Catherine's roof - but, unfortunately, far too indisposed to relish it!

When Darcy indicated that they should proceed to the dining room, Lizzy asked if there was somewhere she might freshen up and, when a servant was bidden, she followed her above stairs to a large, ornate bedroom across the hall from Lady Catherine. There she found a fire freshly lit, a basin and pitcher of water for bathing, and even some of her clothing which had been removed from the parsonage and hung within the armoire. Upon questioning the maid, she discovered that the young lady, herself, had personally packed and carried her things and Lizzy was relieved to know that Darcy had not been the one to do that, for she remained abashed at the intimacy of their evening in the library. To think that he had actually carried her in his arms and then slept upright within the same room did not set well with her. No, he had done nothing unseemly and she was grateful for his assistance, but in light of his recent declaration to her, she did not feel easy at such familiarity. In fact, she had hoped never to see him again after her refusal of his proposal and here they were forced into a situation whereby it seemed they would be thrown into each other's company for some time.

After a quick wash, the maid assisted Lizzy into a clean frock and then brushed her hair, pinning it up into a suitable knot. "Breakfast is served in the dining room, Miss. Master Darcy said you are to eat before doing anything else."

Lizzy rolled her eyes, thinking once again of how imperious a manner he possessed, as though it were his right to tell her what to do; but then she remembered how kind he had been to help her family last night, how he had opened his aunt's home to them, and she felt a slight sense of shame at being so critical, but only a very slight sense. She was hungry, for she suddenly realized that she had forgotten to eat at all the day before, but Mr. Darcy must not assume that she would obey him as though she were one of the servants.

"I prefer to look in on Mrs. Collins first; would you please take me to her room?"

The maid curtsied and led Lizzy down the hall to Charlotte's chamber. Inside Lizzy found not only her friend, but the doctor and a nurse he had summoned from the village. He stood there shaking his head, a frown knitting his brows together. Lizzy hurried to the bedside and was shocked to see Charlotte's complexion deathly pale. Her eyes appeared as huge dark hollows, a look Lizzy had never before seen on her friend's face.

"Mrs. Collins, how far along are you in your confinement?" the doctor asked.

Lizzy's eyes widened at this news, completely surprised that Charlotte had not confided such to her. Charlotte only moaned and shook her head, unable to speak.

"Miss Bennet, I was told that you are a close friend of Mrs. Collins. Might you know the answer to my question?"

"No," Lizzy declared, "I did not even know she was with child!"

"It is possible she may not have known either," the doctor replied, "but I would say she is nearly three months along." He took her wrist once again and felt for her pulse, shaking his head and sighing. As he turned away, he instructed the nurse not to leave her even for a moment and to do all that she could to persuade her to take some water. Lizzy followed him outside the room and questioned him as to her friend's condition.

"It is not good," he said simply, "not good at all. Taking nourishment is imperative both for her and the unborn child, but the effects of morning sickness together with this illness are prohibiting Mrs. Collins from retaining anything."

With assurance that he would return to check on her within the hour, he hastened on to Lady Catherine's room. As he opened the door to her bedchamber, Lizzy heard her imperious voice demanding, "Where have you been?"

Lizzy returned to Charlotte's room and after spending nearly an hour with her in which she persuaded her to at least try some sips of water, a maid entered the room and told her that Master Darcy required her presence in the hall. Lizzy frowned and cautioned the nurse to summon her immediately if there were any change in Mrs. Collins' condition, and then reluctantly left the room.

"How is Mrs. Collins?" Darcy asked immediately, a worried look covering his face.

"Not much better," Lizzy answered tersely. "I am very much afraid for her."

"The doctor told me that she is with child. This could not have happened at a worse time."

Lizzy nodded, noting the tone of genuine concern in his voice.

"Is there not something I can do, some delicacy or drink I can order prepared that might tempt her?"

"She is too ill to keep it down even if she wanted it."

He looked away, sighing audibly, and then turned back to her. "And you, Miss Bennet? Did you eat breakfast?" When she shook her head, he took her arm and began leading her toward the stairs. "You must eat. I insist!"

"Mr. Darcy, please!" Lizzy's voice rose in volume. "It is not your place to tell me to eat or not eat. If I choose to remain with my friend, that is my determination to make."

Immediately he released her. "Of course. You are perfectly right. I did not mean to presume . . . it is just that I fear you are not caring for yourself and does it not make sense that if you become ill through neglect, you will be of no use to your friend nor anyone else?"

Lizzy saw the wisdom of his words, but still it nettled her that he would order her about. Saying nothing, she stood there avoiding his eyes.

"Miss Bennet, can you not see that I am in anguish over this entire situation? It is because of my aunt that your family, as well as mine, are in these calamitous circumstances. If I sound high-handed, I apologize. It is only because I feel absolutely helpless!"

Lizzy saw the truth of his emotions in his eyes and heard it in his voice and she was ashamed that she had been so critical. "You did not cause any of this, Mr. Darcy," she said softly, "and I thank you for your concern. I will go and eat directly. Now, will that satisfy you?"

He nodded and stepped back so that she might descend the stairs before him and they made their way to the dining room without further conversation.

~ * ~

Lizzy saw little of Darcy for much of the remainder of the day. He had left her alone at the dining table, simply pouring himself a cup of coffee and quitting the room soon thereafter. After eating, she had hurried back to Charlotte's side where she stayed for many hours. She had then checked on Maria, who was feeling better, even though she had taken more of the tonic than anyone else at Hunsford. It seemed that youth had its benefits and she had responded to the doctor's treatment quickly, so much so that Lizzy had to talk quite firmly to keep her in bed. Mr. Collins remained ill, but his color no longer reminded Lizzy of mashed peas, so she took that as a good sign. The fact that he did not even inquire as to his wife's condition, but rather went on and on about what an honor it was to be residing above stairs at Rosings and how indulgent and condescending Lady Catherine had been to allow such a thing, made Lizzy wish him stricken with the cramps all over again. Shaking her head, she left his room as soon as possible. Anne de Bourgh was still very ill, as she, too, had been overdosed with the dreaded tonic, but the doctor felt that she had turned the tide and would recover. Lizzy did not even venture into Lady Catherine's chamber, as she could tell from the peremptory commands issuing forth from that direction that the esteemed lady was no longer in need of her assistance. She was quite able to direct her own care.

Charlotte, however, was another matter. She continued unable to hold anything on her stomach and by that evening had started running a fever. Lizzy continually bathed her face with cool compresses, but to no avail. By nightfall, the doctor recommended the use of leeches. Lizzy hated the thought of those ugly creatures sucking the blood from her friend's arms, especially when she was in such distress and still unable to lie quiet because of severe cramping.

"Mr. Bonner," she asked the doctor, "can you not use some other remedy? Is there not some potion that might cure her?"

"I have the medicine, Miss Bennet," he answered, "but twill do no good if the patient cannot retain it. Leeches are the only answer."

He left the room to send a servant to fetch the dreaded treatment and after instructing the nurse to take her place at Charlotte's bedside, Lizzy followed him. In the hallway she argued again with the doctor, but to no avail. He was adamant that bleeding was the only way to rid the tonic from Mrs. Collins' body.

Angry and disheartened, Lizzy did not return to Charlotte's room. Instead, she longed to be alone if only for a short while and walked toward her own chamber, but even there she could hear Lady Catherine's demanding voice bellowing from across the hall. I need to leave this house, she thought, and proceeded down the back stairway and out the great doors at the rear of the mansion. Even though it was dark outside, stars were plentiful and the moon was rising so that she could see her way to a small stone bench placed within an arbor not far from the house. The cool night air proved a welcoming host and she tilted her head back to gaze at the sky and allow the breeze to wash over her face. Lady Catherine had ordered every fire in the house kept at a good blaze, for everyone knew that the sick must be kept from drafts, and Charlotte's room, in particular, was stifling. What a relief it was for Lizzy to take this slight respite for herself.

She sat there for some time allowing nature to renew her spirits, attempting to discard some of her own weariness and the fear she felt for her friend, when she heard footsteps in the distance coming toward her from below the arbor. The moonlight revealed a man's form, and although Lizzy felt certain it was only one of the servants, she stood and drew her shawl around her and turned toward the house. She had taken only a step, when he called out to her.

"Miss Bennet?"

She closed her eyes, recognizing the voice. She might escape the house, but there seemed to be no escaping Mr. Darcy. Turning back to him, she curtsied slightly.

"You are out rather late, are you not?" he asked as he joined her.

"No more so than you, sir."

"I was checking on the situation at the stables. Fortunately, Lady Catherine's tonic has not been disbursed among the hands or if it was, they were clever enough to give it to the pigs."

Lizzy smiled at the thought. "That is most fortunate, although you might want to check on the pigs in the morning."

Darcy actually smiled slightly in return. "May I ask why you are wandering outside after dark?"

"I am not wandering, sir, only sitting."

"Did I not warn you against being out of doors alone after nightfall?"

"I would think it perfectly safe within the confines of Rosings Park and, as you can see, I have not strayed far from the house."

"Nowhere is perfectly safe, not when you are an attractive young woman."

Lizzy cocked her head at this remark and looking up at him, she said archly, "Attractive, perhaps, but if one is only tolerable, there should be no fear whatsoever."

Now, it was Darcy's turn to close his eyes and look away. "I have hoped ever since I met you that you had not heard that unfortunate remark."

Lizzy gave his discomfiture no relief, but simply turned toward the house and began walking. He followed and called out to her, "Miss Bennet . . ."

"Please do not concern yourself with apologies, Mr. Darcy. It is all in the past and not worth speaking of today. If you will excuse me, I must return to Mrs. Collins."

"Has her condition improved any at all?"

"On the contrary, she is so much worse, the doctor has sent for leeches. I cannot bear the thought of how she will endure such treatment."

"Leeches!" Darcy cried. "That quack! Come, we must hurry!" He began walking furiously and Lizzy had to almost run to keep up with his long legs. Inside the mansion, he bounded up the stairs as Colonel Fitzwilliam met them in the hall.

"So there you are! I have been looking everywhere. Miss Bennet, Darcy, dinner is prepared and ready to be served."

"Not now, Fitzwilliam! Come with me!"

The colonel looked to Lizzy for some explanation, but she shook her head, unable to account for Darcy's haste. She followed both men up the staircase and listened as Darcy repeated to his cousin his accusations against the doctor and his opinion of the proposed treatment for Mrs. Collins. Rapping sharply on her door, Darcy demanded from the nurse that the doctor meet him in the hall immediately.

"He cannot, sir," she answered, stepping out into the hall and pulling the door shut behind her. "Mrs. Collins is in great distress."

"What is going on?" Darcy demanded.

"She is threatening to lose the child, sir."

Lizzy gasped and cried out; rushing past them all, she threw open the door and disappeared within.

Darcy twisted the ring on his finger and paced back and forth. "Fitzwilliam, ride to London and fetch my personal physician. Promise him any amount of money. Just get him here as soon as possible!"

continue reading Jan H's story here

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